Redemption
by rocaddict
Summary: COMPLETED! dances Heero, Duo, and an OC try and live their lives after the war, seeking their own ways out. Pairings: 1X2, 3X4, OCXOC(not major). Shonen-ai. R&R porfa! My poor ego needs help.
1. Lost and Found

Rating: PG-13  
  
Warnings: It is a yaoi fic, with language, teenage pregnancy, and just general strangeness. Rating may vary between chapters, but my hope is to keep it PG-13  
  
Pairings: At the moment, 1X2  
  
A/N: This takes place about a year after Endless Waltz. Special thanks to Sintari, my lovable beta reader, and more special thanks to anyone who R&R's. Much love.  
  
Chapter One- Lost and Found  
  
Redemption is the kind of thing that beats most of the standard "Price Is Right" gift packages. It's not like a new refrigerator, or a trip to some foreign country. It's a step up from that, and quite a bit cheaper, which is probably why so many people spend so much of their time searching for it. It also explains, partially, why on this night a war hero had stumbled into a church and sat down, having been entranced by the youth's choir practice. It also offers an explanation for the unwed teenage mother who sat a few feet from him. She was watching the singers and their moving lips, but the words glided over her head, and offered her no meaning for her life. Still, she sat and pretended to listen, because she did not want to go to the nursery's cribs and pick up her sleeping little boy.  
  
The war hero, then called Heero, was watching this woman out of the corner of his eye. He could tell that she was tired and unhappy. Her clothes told him that she probably didn't have a solid place to live, and the viscous, congealing white spot over her shoulder spun a story for him about a child. Though it was a rarity for him to speak at all, he couldn't help but lean over and bridge the slight gap between him and this young woman, asking,  
  
"Where's your kid?"  
  
She glanced up at him, her eyes mired in a fog of terror, confusion, and sadness. "I'm sorry?"  
  
He reached out with one lightly scarred hand, and let the tips of his fingers gently brush the stain that stuck out from the usual blackness of her shirt. "You have a baby, right?"  
  
She nodded slightly, her eyes still wide. "He's almost five months," she added to her silence. The choir's notes hit a crescendo in front of them, and both pairs of eyes shot forward to them, before returning to their resting position, meeting each other.  
  
"Where is he?"  
  
"He's sleeping. In the nursery."  
  
Heero nodded, managing to accept this as a minor pseudo-excuse. "What are you two doing here?"  
  
He felt the sarcasm radiate off of her body as she quipped, "Oh, is it members only now?"  
  
"No," he answered, staring blankly into her green eyes. She had carelessly thrown up this glamorous veneer of having her whole life together, tied up in a neat little package and left on the doorstep. The longer his eyes watched her, the faster it crumbled. It was the kind of thing she had grown sick of, the sort of game she didn't feel like playing anymore. He understood, because he'd felt it before, so many times while he was piloting a Gundam, floating around between colonies and not understanding what kind of purpose it could have possibly held for the future.  
  
"I'm sorry," she whispered softly, letting one hand fall onto the pew beside her. She was exhausted; her head lolled back behind her, only holding on by the bones in her neck. "It's been a long couple of years, y'know?"  
  
Heero nodded; he knew more than she would think he did. "You still didn't answer my question."  
  
She rolled her head towards him, her crazed black hair sliding around one shoulder with it. "Question?"  
  
"Why are you here?"  
  
"Oh, right..." she sighed, "That." Her eyes slid closed as she turned her head back and slumped farther down in the pew. "I don't know... we just don't have anywhere else to go right now."  
  
"Are you staying here tonight?"  
  
"Probably not. All this religion would freak me out."  
  
Heero let himself smile a little. The war was over; he could do that now. He stared at this woman, her languid, beaten frame, and he wanted to help her. He saw the scabs on her forearms, and wanted to heal them. He saw the bruise on one elbow, and he wanted to make it disappear. He saw the stains on her shirt, and he wanted to wash it. However, he had little knowledge of stain removal. His brain was suddenly caught with an inspiration. "Would you like to stay with me tonight?"  
  
She sat up suddenly, and her eyes were filled with a glare. Clearly, she was not accustomed to strangers offering her kindness. "What do you want from me?"  
  
"Nothing," he answered gently. "I just want to help you."  
  
"Right. I don't even know your name. You could be a registered sex offender, or something like that."  
  
"Well, I'm not going to hurt you."  
  
He watched her eyes carefully, trying to see what he could find that would convince her. She was obviously torn between the Right Thing To Do (walk away) and her need for somewhere to stay. He could almost see the wheels in her head as they turned, over and over, trying to compute all of the possible options. Finally, she asked, "What's your name?"  
  
"Heero Yuy," he answered, his mind completely vapid of the information he'd just turned over. Then, he came back to reality, and realized the stupidity of what he'd just done. What had he been thinking, giving this strange girl his name? What the hell was wrong with him. Suddenly, he needed his gun. He had to kill her; she knew his name. Then, he stopped, trying to regain control of himself. The war is over, he repeated in his head. I don't have to worry about my name anymore. I don't even carry a gun. I don't have to worry about any of that anymore.  
  
"Heero Yuy?" He nodded. "The Gundam pilot?"  
  
"Ex-pilot," he replied. He didn't want to think about that anymore. He didn't want to remember all of the things he'd done in the past, all of the lives he'd taken.  
  
"Sorry," she retorted, rising. "I hate the war."  
  
"Me, too," he answered. She turned back to him, her eyes shocked. "Really, I do," he added, as though he was sure she questioned him on that mark. Now, she was really confused.  
  
"I'm Lela Donnelly," she said softly. "My son's name is Julian."  
  
Heero nodded in reply. He didn't know what else to do. He rose, too, trying to meet her gaze from somewhere other than the subservient position he had. She still had a good three inches on him, her legs going on for miles. She was really quite beautiful, in a way that he didn't expect; her imperfections were what made her so perfect to him. "Nice to meet you." He extended his hand to her. She smiled warmly and shook it, her soft, cool hand pulsing against his rough one.  
  
"Nice to meet you, too, Heero."  
  
Heero twisted his key in the lock on his shiny brown apartment door. The gold-plated numbers read '4B,' as he opened the door. Behind him, Lela cradled her son in her arms; Heero had taken on the burden of her paltry backpack of possessions. On the other side were the adornments he knew well: kitchen to the left, with the light on, fridge half-empty and at least one empty bowl in the sink (likely more). To the right were the two bedrooms, one a complete mess, the other relatively neat, sans the fact that it had been used for storage recently. In front of them was a living area: the T.V. had been turned off, and a sleeping form sprawled on the couch. To Lela, it appeared to be a woman, scantily clad with long chestnut hair trailing down her back in a braid. Heero shut the door behind them, causing the figure the stir, and roll over. It flopped to the floor below, and kneeled, cradling their head in both hands.  
  
"Well, look what the cat drug in," Heero began slowly, walking up to the figure. He squatted down beside it, and caught the chin in one hand. With the hands brushed away, Lela realized that the figure was actually a man, dressed up in women's clothing, with horribly smeared make-up, thick bangs and the goofiest smile she'd seen in quite some time.  
  
"Hey, Hee-chan," muttered the soft voice, emerging from between the parted, smudged lips. Gently they kissed, and Lela felt a sudden realization flood over her. Heero didn't want to sleep with her; he was gay. Heero helped the other one to his/her feet, and then gestured towards Lela.  
  
"This is Lela Donnelly. She's going to stay with us for a little while."  
  
"Cool," he replied, sliding towards Lela. "Aw... who's the little kid?"  
  
"Julian," Lela answered. "And you are?"  
  
"Oh, right!" he exclaimed, hitting himself on the forehead with one hand. "Duo Maxwell."  
  
"Another pilot?"  
  
"Well..." Duo paled slightly. "Usually, I try and keep that on the down low, you know? I'm not exactly... proud of the war, and what happened. By night, I'm Megan Rose, lady of the feather boa." His lips split into a wide grin as he shimmied his hips. The skirt that crossed his knees jingled, and an elfin giggle escaped from Julian's lips. "Ooooh, you like that, little guy?" Duo quipped, leaning towards the bundle in Lela's arms. "Do you mind if I...?" He moved towards the baby, with hope illuminating his purple eyes.  
  
"Go for it. Just... watch his head."  
  
"No worries," Duo assured, taking the boy in his arms, and spinning him around, while emitting strange sputtering sounds. The skirt followed him as he went, with bangles jingling over his arms every time he lifted up or put down the kid. Heero was gently smiling from the sidelines then motioned to Lela to follow him into the kitchen. She looked hesitant, but the smile on Heero's face must have reassured her that nothing was going to happen; she went with him.  
  
"Are you hungry at all?"  
  
Lela nodded. "Julian is, too. It's been a little while since we've had anything substantial."  
  
Heero motioned his agreement from the kitchen stove. "How does macaroni and cheese sound? It's about the best we've got up here for now."  
  
"Fantastic," she answered dreamily, sitting at a chair that rested near a round table. One elbow propped up her head, as her eyes roved freely over the wild terrain of their crazy kitchen. It was eclectically kept; glass beads hung from some of the cabinets, and the walls were painted with colorful designs. "This is really... beautiful. Who painted all of this?"  
  
Heero glanced up from the water, which had managed to take the longest time humanly possible to boil. "That was Duo. He works nights, so he spends a lot of his free time doing this kind of stuff."  
  
"It's really nice. I didn't know that a person could be so violent and have still such strange... beautiful talents." She rose and went to one wall, letting her fingers feel the rough texture of the painting beneath it. A loud, high-pitched squeal was heard from the room beside them.  
  
"Sorry! That was me!" Duo called. Lela burst out laughing; she couldn't help it. It amazed her how good Duo was with Julian, and how many lives he had taken just a year before.  
  
"You don't have to worry about Duo," Heero said quietly from the stove. Lela turned back to look at him. "He used to live at an orphanage. He's really good with little kids."  
  
"Oh, no. I'm not worried, I was just... thinking, I guess."  
  
"It's strange, isn't it?"  
  
"What?"  
  
How much difference there is between the pilots you saw on T.V. and the pilots in real life. "Nothing. Is he on solids yet?"  
  
Lela shook her head. "We can't afford it. He's been surviving mostly on a halved formula recipe."  
  
"Does he like applesauce?" he asked, turning towards the fridge.  
  
"I don't know," she whispered. She wasn't looking at anyone. She was staring blankly at the coffee table, tracing over a scratch or two with one finger. "I don't know anything. He likes keys; I have an old set from my house."  
  
"It's none of my business," Heero began, looking up from the gently bubbling water, "but, if you have the keys, why don't you just go back?"  
  
Lela looked up at him, a half-hearted smile on her face. "My mom changed the locks," she answered. "It was the last thing she did before she died." Tears pooled in the emerald eyes, and Heero didn't know what to do. He wished he hadn't brought it up, and abruptly turned back to the stove. Lela kept talking, babbling to no one, "The house is gone, and God only knows where the rest of my relatives are. Julian's all I've got now." Another squeal came from the room behind her.  
  
"That was him this time!"  
  
Lela giggled, that sort of choked giggle that someone gets, right as they know they're going to cry. A hot tear slid down her cheek, and she abruptly wiped it away with one ragged nail. "We're sort of trapped, now. I owe you big time, Heero."  
  
"Ow! Fuck!" Duo cried obscenely from the other room. He came in with Julian in one arm, trying to swat away the chubby hand that had just gripped one of his bangs. "Oh, God, ow! This kid's got a grip like a professional arm wrestler!" Lela rose quickly, wrenching Duo free from Julian's cast-iron death grip. She tucked the baby against her shoulder. Heero looked back, and sighed with relief. Finally, Duo, the lord and master of human emotion, was here. That was a plus; Heero was total shit when it came to dealing with tears, or any pain except for the physical kind. She sat back down, and propped Julian up against her chest, her small breasts providing an excellent cushion as his hands clutching her outstretched thumbs. Duo sat down in a chair opposite her, and began fiddling with the keys on the table. He glanced up at Lela, who was staring at the top of Julian's head with a look of sad reflection, twin tears slipping down her pale skin. He reached behind him and grabbed a napkin out of the half-open drawer. "You okay, kid?"  
  
She looked up at him, her eyes watery and wet. Julian was completely oblivious, happily bouncing, and waiting for Duo to play with the keys again. Instead, the brunette got up and wiped her face with the napkin. "Thanks," she whispered.  
  
"What's the matter?"  
  
"Nothing, I'm just... just a mess." Duo smiled softly, and slowly knelt down beside her. His head leaned against her shoulder, as he whispered,  
  
"We're all a little messy sometimes." She looked down at him then, her knee still jittering the little boy up and down. "But, I bet I can get you cleaned up. Heero!" he called. Heero glanced over from where he was idly stirring the noodles. "I've got work to do. You prepare food, and don't go looking for your keys." He then grabbed the keys in one hand, and scooped the baby off of Lela's lap with the other. "And you, young lady, are coming with me."  
  
She rose and followed obediently, not knowing what to expect at all. Heero watched as he led her into their bedroom and shut the door. He shook his head remorsefully. That poor girl had just entered Megan Rose's One Stop Makeover Boutique. There was no turning back. 


	2. Flight for the Right

_Redemption Chapter Two_

_Rating: PG-13 (may or may not go up)_

_Warnings: Yaoi, profanity, innuendo, teen pregnancy, etc._

_Disclaimer: It's haunting to imagine that I didn't develop Gundam Wing. But... I didn't. Damn. Lucky bastards at Bandai and Sunrise beat me to it. I would've gotten there!!_

_Special thanks to my beta reader Sintari, and Memeal who was lovely enough to comment. I live off comments (hint, hint, nudge, nudge.) Oh, and strawberries. God, strawberries are great. _

Chapter Two- Flight for the Right 

"You are so lovely," Duo began, trying to speak over the shower. Lela let the warm water run over her body, as she felt a run-off of city-based slime slide down the drain under her feet. "Use the purple conditioner, okay? It'll make your hair as beautiful as the rest of you. How old are you?"

"Seventeen."

"Just a baby," he replied, clucking his tongue, as he dug through a drawer filled with lipstick tubes and eye shadows.

"You're not much older, are you?"

"That depends on who you're talking to. Duo Maxwell is only eighteen, but Megan Rose is a whopping twenty-two, baby!" He heard her laughter come bubbling up from the shower curtain as she turned off the water.

"Can you see Julian?" she called, one arm poking out to grope for a towel. Duo passed her the striped one sitting on the counter as he leaned back to glance out the door. Julian was as he'd been left, partially propped up on some pillows and shaking the keys in his little hand.

"He's fine. Come on!"

"Where's the fire, Megan?" she replied snippily, pushing back the curtain. The towel was wrapped over her body like a dress. Her hair hung in damp locks around her neck and shoulder, trailing behind her like an ebony rag doll. A wide smile broke out across Duo's recently washed face. He was dressed normally again, jeans and a T-shirt. "You know, you look very different without make-up."

"It comes with the gender," he replied easily, before proceeding to gush over her. "Doll, you look like a million and one." Her stare back at him was completely blank. "Bucks, that is. You really do have a beautiful face." One manicured hand held her chin gently, tilting it up. "And you're not too bad in the body either. You've got that emaciated look going on."

"Thanks."

"No, really. Have you ever thought about modeling?"

"No, my concerns tend to lie with my son and getting food."

"Of course they do. Come on, let's dry you off."

"I still don't know what you're doing."

"I'm getting rid of the street-rat exterior and polishing up the babe within," he replied, folding his hands in a prayer pose. Lela sighed, and moved towards the door. "What are you doing?"

"I'm checking on my son."

"I told you he's _fine._" Duo drew out the 'eye' sound, his voice huffy. He folded both arms over his white T-shirt. "I'm trying to help you, and you don't even trust me to take care of your kid for fifteen minutes. Honestly," he added, clucking his tongue in the most matronly way he could muster.

"Sorry," she said, rolling her eyes even as she spoke. Duo sat her down in a chair before the sink and grabbed a comb.

"Talk is cheap," he replied, reaching for a lock of her hair. "Glamour is forever." Lela's face was almost petrified. It was pretty clear that she didn't trust this war veteran who was insistent on making her beautiful. With a smile, Duo put his head on her shoulder. "Don't worry, love. You're in the capable hands of Megan Rose, and her trusty sidekicks." Duo gestured over the assembly of brushes, creams, and hot, shiny devices used for tormenting the human head. "No harm can come to you."

And with that, the magic began. Lela didn't understand everything that Duo was doing, and she seemed to let it go. His fingers ran through her hair masterfully, combing it free of knots and towel-drying it again to let the excess water run off. He wasn't even totally paying attention to what he was doing, she noted, as she watched his violet eyes wander over the jars that he'd set out on the counter. "You're too young to have a kid, you know?"

"You're not the first one to say that, but it doesn't change much."

Duo blushed slightly; he hadn't really though about what he was saying before he'd verbally berated her. "Where's the father? If it's not too much to ask."

"No..." she began. She swallowed hard, and pointed up. Duo stood stock-still, and gaped at her, open-mouthed. Her eyes were riddled with confusion. "What?"

"Your baby's father... is _Jesus?_"

"What? No! He's dead!"

A silence hung briefly between them. "Oh..." he began slowly. Then, he realized that he didn't have any other words. "Oh..."

"Yeah," she added, letting her head droop down. Swiftly, one of Duo's elegant hands reached down and slid across her jaw line, until the very tip touched her chin. Then, he tilted her face upward so that she was staring at herself in the mirror. He put his head beside hers, resting on one shoulder. She looked at herself and felt this whole new sensation of being. He was a beautiful man, rest assured, having never totally grown out of the innocence of a baby face. Still, he held this aura of blissful joy around him, like nothing could be wrong, even though he had survived one of the most horrific wars of late, as a pilot no less. He tilted slightly, so that she could feel his chestnut locks press against her wet hair.

"Always look up," he whispered. She tried to put on the same confident smile that she had seen cross his lips. "You're really sad, aren't you?"

Her lips were parted to answer, but all she could do was nod. One of his hands slid around her shoulder. "I know. I was, too. But, all you really have to do is find what makes you happy. You know, that old follow your bliss mantra?" She nodded again. "What does make you happy, Lela?"

She couldn't speak; her eyes were completely blank, devoid of knowledge of her own happiness or defeat. Finally, she managed to utter, "Julian..."

Duo's purple eyes glowed at that. "Of course. Julian, that beautiful baby boy you had bouncing on your knee." Lela nodded, a shred of happiness floating into the glassy green orbs set in her pallid skin. "Why does he make you happy?"

"Because... he's perfect."

"I know he is," Duo sighed wistfully, still staring into Lela's eyes through the reflection in the mirror. "He's a special little kid. But... he's a hungry little kid. He tried to eat my hair." He thought that this would cheer her up; he was wrong. Her face went completely wan, and all the happiness fled from her eyes. She buried her head in her hands, and began to sob. "No, sweetheart... that's not what I meant."

She shook him off of her, and abruptly sucked all of the snot back into one nostril. "No, you're right. I'm too fucking young, Duo."

"That's not what I meant!" he cried out. "After all, it takes a village, right?"

"Stop it!" she screamed. "Stop all of this, all of your quasi-prophetic wisdom, okay? You're right! I can't fucking take care of this kid. He needs to be with people who will be good to him, and feed him for Christ's sake!" She ran from the bathroom, clutching the towel to her breasts. Quickly, she scooped up Julian in her arms, and fled through the bedroom door. Duo chased after her, braid flying, until he slid on a pile of magazines and fell to the floor.

A very confused Heero looked up from the macaroni and cheese that was just prepared, as he saw what appeared to be a striped bullet fling itself out of the bedroom. He heard a loud crash, and a louder, "Fuck!" before Duo emerged at the doorframe.

"Lela!" he called, wheezing, "Stop!"

She stopped at the door, and turned to face him, her cheeks streaked with tears. "What?"

"This, my dear, is an ill-planned flight." She stared at him. "You're wearing a towel, and not well, I might add." She moved with one arm quickly to cover herself better, but only managed to make it slightly worse. "You haven't eaten in days, you have no clothes or possessions, except for Heero's keys which by the way he will need back." Duo put both hands on his hips and glared at her, "And running now will only make things worse."

Lela's eyes flashed back and forth like a rabid animal's. Duo was right about everything, and she knew it; she was dangerously cornered, trapped in her own little world of angst, and depression and lost loves and confusion. She sank to the floor like a limp rag doll, Julian still in her arms. He began to cry very softly, and she wept with him. Together, as mother and son, they reached an epiphany.


	3. Epileptic Dreams

Chapter Three- Epileptic Dreams 

Julian slept in a makeshift crib/hammock strung between an entertainment center too large for the apartment, and a doorknob to a closet that no one used. Duo, Heero, and Lela were all sitting at the kitchen table, eating rubbery macaroni and cheese.

"Dude," Duo began, his mouth half-full, "this stuff sucks."

"Well, if somebody hadn't gone on a makeover rampage, then maybe it would be fresh and tasty." Lela quashed a giggle, putting the back of her hand against her mouth. "What?"

"Nothing," she answered, wiping away the last bits of pseudo-cheese goop from her lips. "I've got a question though."

"Fire away," replied Duo, rising with the plastic bowl, obviously in search of more food. He was rummaging around the kitchen. "Make it quick, though. I have to leave for work soon."

Lela glanced at the clock. "It's ten thirty."

"Yeah, I know. They called me in early _again._"

Heero rolled his eyes. "You were saying?"

"Right. Um... are... are you two lovers, or something?" Duo stopped his errant search, and Heero looked up from his half-eaten bowl. Lela could hear the clock, ticking behind them in a slow, death march. She had a feeling she had just stumbled into some very rough territory between the two of them. Then, Duo sidled up to Heero, in a very strange way; he had that kind of strut you see stripper's do in high-heels right before they throw off all their clothing. His hands slid over the man's sculpted shoulders and down to his chest.

"You could say that," Duo answered, letting his head loll on top of Heero's. Heero let his hands cover Duo's manicured ones for a little bit. He rolled his head back onto one shoulder, and their lips touched again. Lela tried to focus on her macaroni rather than the two men before her. "Aw," Duo began, looking up. "What's the matter? Do we freak you out?"

Lela blushed heavily. "No... I just miss the love." Duo's lips split apart into that wide grin that let you know something totally random was coming up. He broke away from Heero and darted towards Lela, grabbing both of her hands.

"I'll show you love!" he cried, in a dramatic opera voice. He kissed her softly, and then began to gallivant around the kitchen and living room, with her in tow. His arm was tight around her waist. He began to whisper in her ear, "Wow... I almost forgot what it felt like to dance with someone who had real breasts. Heero's got _nothing."_ Lela laughed, rambunctiously, which only spurred on Duo's inane commentary of the breast sizes of various men. "That kid is flat as a board!"

"Yeah, well mine aren't much to look at either."

"You kidding?" Duo asked, as she spun her out. She was still smiling wider than she had in years. "Please... you've got a nicer rack than most of the transvestites I know." She twirled back in, one of Duo's more hippie-like skirts following her into his arms. "Know what would make this better?"

"If you weren't gay?"

"No..."

"If this wasn't your skirt?"

"... Nevermind."

"No, no, tell me."

Duo smiled, with that same slyness dancing around in the back of his eyes. "THREE-WAY!" he cried out, before running to Heero, grabbing his hand and tugging him to where a bewildered Lela was still standing. Duo took both of their hands and began to dance around insanely, swaying his hips and shaking his head like a madman. Lela couldn't help but follow along, and she began to twist and twirl. Suddenly, she went too far backwards, and crashed into the sink, where a stack of pots and pans had been sitting. The crashing metal made Heero twist his head around, his eyes suddenly cold and dark. _OZ. _He thought this without anything to back it up. His eyes narrowed, as he reached into his waistband for where his gun would have been. The world around him was no longer his merry kitchen, covered in Duo's artwork, but rather a cast-iron battleground. Soldiers were pointing rifles at him, as he ducked behind barrels. He wasn't really there, a voice in the back of his mind told him. He was safe at home; the war was over. He couldn't listen though. It was just another trick. He had to defeat OZ. He had to save them. Save who?

"Heero?" Duo asked. He could see him suddenly, appearing into his nightmare. Duo. He had to save Duo.

"Duck!" he cried, diving on top of the braided boy. He grabbed a spoon off of the counter and threw it. Its aim was dead-on, hitting Lela squarely between the eyes. She slumped back against the countertop, clutching it with both hands so that she didn't fall.

"What the hell?" she gasped, resisting the urge to dart from the kitchen. Duo was squirming underneath Heero's tense body. He was glaring at her, death in his eyes.

"Don't move. Are you okay, Duo?"

"Dude, I was fine. What the hell is wrong with you?"

"They're trying to kill us!"

"Heero!" Duo screamed. "What the fuck are you talking about? No one's trying to kill us. The war is over." Heero stopped suddenly, feeling the realization drop heavily on him.

"Over...?"

Duo had managed to wriggle out from underneath the confused ex-pilot. He took his face in one hand and stared straight into his eyes. "It's all over, Heero. We won, remember?"

Heero shook his head. Lela was just standing behind them, a dazed confusion sinking over her. She swiftly became aware of the throbbing pain in her forehead, and slowly moved towards the freezer for some ice. Heero's whole body was trembling on the floor, as Duo pulled him into his arms. "Yeah... it's done. You don't have to worry anymore. No one wants to kill you."

"Duo...?" Lela whispered from behind them. He motioned to her to leave, and she swiftly walked out of the room. She sat down on the couch in the living room and drew her knees up around her chest as she stared at the door. She wanted to run again, wanted to leave. She was in the wrong place, at the wrong time and she knew it. There was something wrong with these two; the war had done something terrible to them, but she could only imagine what.

_What did Heero think I was? _She mentally pondered what had just happened, as though she could find some sort of explanation for the behavior. She had heard somewhere, a long time ago, about a disease that made people act very strange after something bad had happened. She wondered if Heero was suffering from the war. What was that thing called? Post... something. Christ, she didn't remember. She just hoped that it wouldn't happen again.

"Alright, loves, I'm off." Duo/Megan was standing by the couch in full drag regalia. He had donned a standard work uniform (short skirt, high heels, fishnets) and had styled his hair into some kind of elaborate updo. His face was painted, black kohl rimming his eyes and ruby red lipstick shining across his smile. "You two be good, okay?"

Lela nodded from where she sat on the couch, clutching an ice pack to her forehead. Heero had apologized once for pegging her with the spoon, and then moved on to other things. She was starting to learn that this was simply the way he operates. While he was getting ready, Duo explained to her that the times before the war had been the hardest for Heero. He'd just started regaining any sense of emotion near the end. As he curled his eyelashes, he said,

"It's always been strange to me that Heero has such an attraction to me." He switched eyes then, letting them grow wide and beautiful. "After all, the first time I met him I shot him twice." He closed one eye, smoothing the lid with his finger before smothering it in black kohl. "But, that's just kind of how Heero is, y'know?" Lela nodded. "Pass me that eye crayon, would you, love?"

And now, Duo was going to leave. He was going to depart, and let Lela remain alone with this crazed post-war psychopath who had tried to kill her with a spoon just half an hour before. Heero was standing near Duo as he was preparing to leave. Absentmindedly, he picked up a scrap of paper and placed it in Duo's outstretched palm. He leaned towards one of the ears, studded with a pair of lengthy clip-ons, and gently bit the lobe. "Don't sleep with anyone, okay?" whispered Heero's little voice. It was the one he used only when he really wanted something. Duo smiled back at him, taking the little paper slip between two polished fingers and swaying his hips very slightly towards Heero's.

"M'kay," he answered dreamily, "But it's going to take a real kiss to get me to do this shopping on my way home." Heero's lips twitched into a half-smile before he put one hand on the hip of Duo's black skirt and pressed them together. Lela tried to look away as Duo kissed him back, wrapping one hand around the back of Heero's neck, and twirling the little hairs around its nape. Heero pulled back abruptly, staring at Duo's closed, painted eyes.

"How's that?"

Duo grinned. "That'll have to do, because otherwise I'll be late." He tucked the paper down his top, and patted his chest twice. "I'll see you later, Hee-chan. Nice to meet you, Lela!"

Lela didn't have a chance to offer the same thanks to Duo before he slipped out the door. She managed to smile as she saw the wistful look of love that lingered in Heero's eyes. She didn't understand what made these two soldiers; other than their eccentricities, they were basically normal kids. She felt sorry for them. They were the kind of people who had been forced to grow up too fast, and finally just gave out. Their legs crumbled into sand beneath them, and they became cross dressers, or had flashbacks. Whatever they could do to keep themselves sane, they saw to it that it was promptly done. That kind of trait deserved admiration. Instead, it brought a rather large amount of shame.

"Hey, Heero?"

"Hn?" he replied, glancing up. His eyes were still entranced with the image of Duo. She thought it was adorable how much he loved him.

"Where does Duo work?"

Heero sighed, and shook his head softly. "At a nightclub called 'Crazy Legs.'" He looked back to her. "Though, you'd probably call it a gay bar."

"Ah... I see."

"It's only open nights, because of the local homophobia. By around midnight, most people are too drunk to care."

"Where I come from, we call that hypocrisy." Heero managed a slight laugh at that. It sounded forced, but from what she'd deduced of Heero's character, he was not the type to force anything. "Hey... Heero?"

"Yeah?"

This time, she had a really hard time saying what she wanted to. He was beautiful to her, in all the ways that no one she had ever met could have dreamed. She stepped towards him, gently trying to avoid the clothing and junk mail that littered their floor. "Could... could I kiss you?"

"What?"

Now, she felt like shit. "I didn't mean it like that... I'm just... kind of alone, you know?" She did not want to be doing this. She did not want to start crying, because she wasn't trying to play the sympathy card. What she was saying was true, though. There was a loneliness deep in her being, a hole in the pit of her stomach that could never be filled. It'd come, of course, after the death of Julian's father, but it wasn't just that. It was all of everything. She wiped a stray tear off her cheek. "Julian's great to have around, but... it's this different kind of... I don't want to say love, but..."

"I know," he whispered in reply. A blank stare back was the only kind of answer she could muster. "I've always felt like that."

"Even with...?" She couldn't say it, but she knew that he understood. He nodded softly.

"There are some things you just can't run from, Lela."

"Like what?"

He turned, completely out of nowhere, and walked away from her, back into the kitchen. She followed him, haste quickening her steps. "Wait just a second," she called after him. He stopped beside the stove and looked at her. "What do you mean?"

"You know what I mean."

"No... I don't."

"Yes, you do. There's a reason I was so nice to you, Lela. I'm not good to random strangers. I have a tendency to try and kill them."

"What the hell are you saying?"

"You know my secret if you know how Victor died."

Lela's heart stopped beating. Her lips stopped moving, her lungs stopped breathing. She could taste a cold swell of bile flooding to her throat as a sudden flash of the day she'd gotten the news slammed into her head like a runaway train into a brick wall. She gasped for air as the color fell from her cheeks. "You killed him..."

Heero nodded.

"Why?"

"He was in the wrong place at the wrong time. It shouldn't have happened, but it did." Heero wanted to leave. He didn't want to pull back these old memories, these tales of the horrible things that he'd done during the war. He didn't want to think about the civilians who died because of him, the soldiers just like him, only with families. He didn't want to think about the wives and sons and daughters that these men and women had left behind, about the lives that he'd shattered when he pulled the trigger or hit the self-destruct button. He couldn't bring himself to run, though. He couldn't stop himself from telling Lela. The story flooded out of him like a bursting dam. "It was late; none of us had slept in days, but we knew that it was only a matter of time before OZ made a move. So we waited, with nothing but coffee to keep us going. I was piloting Wing when it happened. Their mobile dolls ambushed us, and we were ordered to fire at will. The only thing I know is to follow orders. I couldn't have done anything else. At first, I took careful aim, made sure to avoid the other men, but soon, we were just dying too fast. Our numbers wouldn't hold if we kept up like this. So, everyone became my enemy, even the ones on my side. I didn't know what was happening until it was over. I wasn't sure how many deaths were mine until we began to pick over the bodies and the smoldering mobile suits. Victor was there; he'd barely been harmed. There was a picture of you in his wallet, you and Julian. I knew it was you in the church, just like I knew it was my fault that Victor was dead. I did the only thing I knew to do."

Lela had done nothing but stare at him while he told her all of these things, things she didn't need to know. Her voice was soft and quiet, even as he saw the tears welling in her eyes. "Fuck you."

She went into the extra bedroom without a word, and pulled herself under the sheets. Heero sighed, and turned off the lights in the kitchen, as he pulled himself into bed. He couldn't even conceive of what would happen the next day.


	4. Blackbird Singing

_Rating: R (for profanity, sexuality, violence, etc.)_ Pairings: 1X2 

_A/N: Well this was a fun one. They're all fun, though. I'm really hoping to get some review on this, see if I should keep pursuing it. So... R&R, I guess. Flame if you're in a bad mood (we all have those kinds of days)_

Chapter Four- Blackbird Sleeping 

Heero woke with a bare sunrise streaking through a crack in the curtains. He couldn't remember leaving them open. His paranoia was too great for that. He rolled his body slightly, surprised not to feel the dull ache of having worked it too hard the day before. Warmth slid across his stomach, and slumped down around the waist of his boxers. He glanced over to see Duo half-sprawled on the bed, with one arm around Heero. His bangs were flopped across the pillow, and his unmade face had a tranquil, angelic expression gently painted on. Heero couldn't help but smile. No war nightmares. That's good. Duo often slept fitfully, moaning and waking up screaming on more than one occasion. The war had scarred all of them. He slid out of bed and threw on a T-shirt before shuffling to the kitchen to make his coffee.

When he arrived, Lela was standing in the center, rocking Julian back and forth as she waited for a microwave to heat up his bottle. She was not heavily clothed at all, wearing on of Duo's baggy old T-shirts (black Orange County Choppers) that only fell a few inches below her crotch. He glanced at the clock. It was about six-thirty. He had a little bit of time.

"Want some coffee?"

She glanced up at him, her eyes filled with a deer-in-headlights expression. "I don't know," she answered softly before turning her head back to Julian. He let it go, and wandered to the cabinet, grabbing a bag of coffee beans.

"We've got Vienna Blend."

"I'm only up to feed Julian. I'm going to try and get some more sleep in a minute."

"Oh..." He shuffled around, filling up the water part, adding the filter, and throwing in some of the ground-up powder. "I've got to be at work soon."

"I figured," she answered. Her voice never moved much above a whisper, and he had to strain to hear her occasionally, especially when the microwave beeped loudly. He knew it wouldn't awaken Duo, who had been known to sleep through fire alarms and the occasional shuttle launch when he was duly tired. He could only imagine what time the boy had stumbled last night.

"Our neighbor had a baby a few months ago. She had to get rid of it or something, but I think she still has a lot of the clothes and toys and stuff."

"Oh."

"After Duo wakes up, you should get him to go over there and help you get something."

"He bought formula last night."

"What?"

"Julian woke up in the middle of the night," she replied. "I was trying to hush him up, but he was really hungry. Then, Duo came home. He'd bought some formula when he was doing the shopping you gave him." She smiled gently. "So, Julian's eating well for the first time in awhile."

"Good."

The silence pulsed around them, as Heero heard the beginning of the percolation from within the coffee maker. He loved that smell, the fresh brewing of good, strong coffee from somewhere real and authentic, with real and authentic beans that you could grind on your own. Ever since he'd started living on the colonies with Duo, things like that had been harder and harder to find. Occasionally, he would be able to navigate his way to some fresh coffee all on his own, not that worthless synthetic shit that you could buy at a convenience store. Most of the time, however, only Duo was able to weave his magic and find some true blue, wonderful coffee beans. He preferred the Vienna Blend to any other; it was, quite possibly, the best shit that anyone could get on L3.

"Did you lie to me?"

"Hn?"

"About Victor. Were you shitting me?" She'd placed the bottle in Julian's mouth, who began to greedily suck down the contents.

"No," Heero answered, his eyes down. He couldn't bring himself to look at her, not when she was like this. "I wasn't."

"Okay..." She pursed her lips then, trying to think of what she wanted to say next. "Thank you."

This caught Heero by surprise. He stared at her, rocking the bundle in her arms, and she looked back up at him with the first light of happiness that he'd seen in her since the night before. "What?"

"I mean... I don't feel good about the fact that Victor is dead. I really, really loved him. And I really don't feel good about that fact that you're being so nice to me because you murdered the love of my life." Heero winced. He'd been trying since the war to avoid thinking about all of the things he'd done as 'murder.' Whether or not it was seemed to be the kind of thing he would leave up to individual opinion, and not dwell on himself. "I think my parents would have warmed up to him after the war. But, sometimes, these kinds of things are just meant to happen." She shifted Julian in her arms, who was still intently focused on getting nutrients into his system. She continued, even though Heero didn't want her to.

"My whole life, I've been dependent on people. It's pretty sick when I look back on it, but I couldn't fight for myself. Someone always took care of me. My mom, my dad, Victor, they've all done wonders for me. But, then they all died. I've been on my own, and even better, I've been in their position. I can't rely on someone else to resolve everything anymore. I've got my own problems to take care of, but Julian needs me more than I need myself. That's the kind of dependency I've been putting on other people for as long as I've been around. Only now, I'm finally cured of it. So... thank you, Heero."

She turned around and went to the hammock where Julian slept. After he burped, she set him down and wrapped him up again. He swiftly went to sleep, closing his poetically beautiful brown eyes. She crossed back through the kitchen, only for a moment, to see a still speechless Heero standing in the spot where she had been. She smiled at him, a true smile. "You'd better go. I wouldn't want you to be late for work."

It wasn't until she'd left the room and was back in her bed with the door closed that Heero finally found the words to say in reply.

"Hn."

By the time Duo finally forced himself out of bed, he wished he hadn't. Heero was, of course, gone; he always left for work at some ungodly hour. Duo always found the sheets a bit better, neater than they had been when he fell asleep in them. He sighed to himself as he groped around on the floor with bleary eyes for a pair of jeans. As his hands finally found their goal, he shook his head back and forth. He wished that Heero worked less. Things were a lot easier when they were unemployed, just after the war, when some of the funds still went to them. Finally, they knew that they would lose it if they didn't find jobs. Temporary insanity makes job searching difficult. Even if the two of them could manage to get an application, references were either dead or in hiding. Under the alias of Megan Rose (who was a transgender twenty-two-year-old with loads of experience and a half-decent education) Duo had found a job bartending at the nearest gay bar. The hours were a pain in the ass, simply because there's never anything perfect about a job. However, he did love what it was he did. Not long afterwards, Heero started working for the Preventers at the request of Sally Po. Duo should've thought of that before Crazy Legs. Did he? No. And now, he reaped the benefits. Which was basically equal to dealing with Heero's flashbacks and never getting laid. Fact: Duo Maxwell was not the kind of person who could go long periods of time without getting laid. Fact: Duo Maxwell was involved in a committed relationship with longtime friend and partner Heero Yuy.

Fact: Megan Rose was not.

Duo stepped out of his room, not welcoming the sunlight that streamed through the kitchen windows. He stared at the walls, admiring his own work. He wanted to change it again, but he couldn't imagine what he would do. His ears suddenly caught a light giggle coming from the next room, and he deemed it necessary for his own shirtless self to investigate this matter. Julian was propped on the couch, laughing gaily as Lela danced in front of him. Duo leaned against the doorframe and watched her with his arms crossed. She was dancing with her eyes closed, holding one of his boas in both hands, looped over her shoulders as she spun. She looked different than he remembered her then; she wasn't the product of many efforts on the part of Megan Rose and Her Magical Myriad of Make-ups. She was Lela Donnelly, a little girl who'd worked too hard and had to move on too fast. For an instant, he saw her as a small child in his mind's eye, and it brought a smile to his face. He could perfectly picture her dancing in the rain with a soaked T-shirt and white Keds sneakers. She opened her brilliantly green eyes and stopped moving immediately.

"Aw," Duo pouted half-heartedly as he watched her reaction with bemusement. A gentle blush was creeping its way into her cheeks, and her arms straightened out with the bright feathers clutched between her fists.

"Sorry... I figured you'd be asleep for... a little while."

"Well, I'm not," he replied, stepping towards her. He gave her a light kiss on the cheek and she smiled at him.

"You're a good kid."

"Nah," he replied, and he meant it. "Come on. Have you had any coffee?"

"It's three in the afternoon, Duo."

"No shit?" She shook her head. "Damn... well, I'm getting some coffee. I bet Julian's hungry."

"When is he not?" she quipped. He wanted to speak in retort, but she beat him to it. "After all, he did try to eat your hair."

"Damned kid," Duo muttered, making sure that there was no way Lela could take him seriously. He caught the small pink nose between two knuckles and tweaked it gently. Julian smiled with that same toothless grin that captured Duo's heart every time he saw it. "God," he muttered, walking towards the fridge. He turned back once and glanced over his shoulder. "I want one."

"Be glad you don't have one."

"What?" Duo had his head in the refrigerator, and was trying to dig up some good food.

"Nothing," she answered. She hadn't meant it and didn't know why the hell she'd even said it. She loved Julian with all of her heart. Still, a nagging little voice in the back of her head made a daily habit of telling her how much better off she would have been without him. She tried not to listen to that voice, as it tended to make her do stupid things such as take drugs or binge drink with her baby in some shit apartment. She had been a bad mother for a little while, but she was trying to recover. Her goal in life was to get over herself and start being less shitty to other people. It wasn't going as well as she hoped.

"Mmm... cold pizza," Duo said to himself, talking in that voice that people do when they're responding to their own thoughts. "You want a slice, Lela?"

"No thanks. Could you grab the milk, though?" She planted Julian firmly against one hip, and juggled with scooping formula into the bottle.

"Here, let me get that."

"I've got it, Duo."

"No, dude, take care of your kid."

"Duo, I can get the goddamned formu—," The plastic bottle fell onto the ground. Both of them stared at it for a moment, at the valuable nutrients in the powder that had just spilled all over one of Duo's linoleum creations, a lotus blossom floating on a silvery pond. "Well... shit."

"You want me to get it?"

"Sure," she replied with a sigh. Suddenly, she had a thought. "Duo?"

"Yeah?" he asked. He was bent over, trying to usher the errant little flakes back into the bottle so that he could toss it out and start over.

"Heero mentioned something earlier..." She subconsciously twisted her hair in one hand, still holding Julian firmly against her hip, "about... someone next door."

"Zach?"

"...I don't know..."

"Or maybe he's talking about Christian..."

"Whichever one had a baby."

Duo turned slowly, and pointed part of the bottle at her. "Aaaaah... then you mean Roselyn."

"I... I guess. I'm not totally familiar with these people yet."

"Right, right. Yeah, she lives across the hall. She's pretty nice. Why'd he bring it up?"

"He said they might have some stuff that we could use..."

"Wow... that's the longest conversation anyone's had with Heero in a long time."

"Yeah... well, you should've been here last night."

"Why?" Duo questioned, refilling the bottle and shaking it up. "What happened?"

"We just got to talking and... I don't know just stupid stuff."

"Oh... he told you about Victor, didn't he?"

Lela's face was pasted with this white expression of shock. "Ye-ye-yeah," she whispered. "How... How did you know about that?" Duo sighed heavily, putting both his hands down hard on the edge of the countertop. He stared at the dull tile and realized that he should paint that.

"You want to help me with the counter?"

"What?"

Duo gestured once at the countertop then turned to put the bottle in the microwave. "I just realized how bland it is compared to the rest of this place. I think that I should paint it, and was wondering if you wanted to help."

"I... I guess."

"Cool... Tell you what." He popped open the microwave door as the loud beep sounded, and dabbed some of the milk on his wrist. "Damn!" he cried, shaking off his skin. "That stuff's too hot. Let's go across the hall and see if we can get Roselyn to let us use some of her old stuff, okay?"

"Yeah... sure..." Lela didn't care about the stuff. She wanted to know why Duo was so secretive. She wanted to know why he put up the alias; it couldn't have been just for drag queen purposes. Duo was a transgender name. Lela could plainly see that. She wanted to know what Duo was hiding, even though it wasn't for her to know. She knew this, and that made her crave the knowledge more.

Most importantly, however, Lela wanted to know exactly what Duo knew about Victor.


	5. Painter's Rhapsody

_Rating: R, for language, sexuality, mature themes, etc._ Pairings: 1X2 Chapter Five- Painter's Rhapsody 

The first thing Lela remembered thinking about Roselyn was an urge to turn around and run when this woman answered the door. Her hair was a brilliantly shade of resilient red, a dye which she believed could withstand a nuclear fallout. She'd teased it up into some kind of crazed bouffant, reminding Lela very vaguely of an archaic movie. Her eyes were squinty with bags double her size in a deep purple, drooping and melting into the taut, waxy skin of her cheekbones. She was terrifyingly skinny, a half-burnt cigarette dangling between two bony fingers. It appeared to Lela that the only things holding this woman together were industrial strength hairspray and residual cigarettes smoke molecules that had seeped through her skin.

"Hey you," she greeted, her voice reminiscent of hard-grain sandpaper. It reminded Lela of the antagonist in a cheesy, animated video. The creature from Vidal Sassoon jerked her aging neck towards Lela. "Thought you were gay." She extended the hand holding the cigarette until it pointed straight between Julian's eyes. "He yours?"

Duo laughed. "Nah. I'm still swingin' that way. This is Lela Donnelly; she's a friend of mine. Her son is Julian. He's like... what six months?"

"Five," Lela answered distractedly. She could not tear her wide eyes away from Roselyn. She was unlike any person that Lela had ever seen (or for that matter, wanted to see) in her lifetime. Instinctively, she tucked Julian's soft head against her shoulder, smoothing one hand over the light mop of black hair.

"Right. Hey, whatever happened with you and that other guy?"

"What guy?"

"I dunno. The one who lives with you and tried to pick the lock on my apartment door in order to get some files or something."

"Oh, right...Heero. Sorry about that, he thought you were from OZ."

"Eh," she replied, blowing smoke into Duo's face. The braided man didn't flinch, but Lela's nose wrinkled in slight disgust. "So, what can I do you for?"

"You remember that kid you were taking care of awhile back?"

"Oh, yeah... something, uh... Tommy? Timmy? Tammy? I don't know, I'm a little fuzzy on the details."

"Right... do you still have any of that stuff?"

"Oh, yeah, sure," she replied offhand, moving aside so that the three of them could venture deeper into the stinking lair of nicotine and destroyed ozone. "It's all around here somewhere. Something for her," drag, "rug rat?"

"Yeah. We're trying to get her and Julian settled in."

Settled in? Lela looked to Duo inquisitively, and he simply grinned in response. "Oh! Hey, what does this thing do?"

"It's a carrier," Lela answered without really thinking about it. She had learned all of this stuff when she thought that she would have money, after the war when Victor came back. After he died, the money ran out; they weren't legally bound, and the government was not about to take responsibility for them. Such is the way of bureaucracy.

"Coolness on a stick. I bet it's better than your poor little arm after a while, ne?"

"Yeah... it probably is." Lela didn't know. She'd never owned one. There was some kind of bizarre kindness radiating from Duo as he hunted through the excruciatingly disheveled apartment for more infant knick-knacks. Roselyn stood off to the side, still smoking heavily. Occasionally, the grit of her voice would call out a question to the avidly searching Duo, who would answer her from wherever he was. Lela wanted to help, but couldn't think of any use for herself, nor bring herself to delve any further into Roselyn's bizarre world. She appreciated Duo, though, more than he might ever know.

"My thought is that art expresses what's on your mind. If you plan out what you're going to do, then you're not being true to the art, the work itself, but rather to structure, the very thing that impedes art in modern society, y'know?" Duo said all of this as he was mixing rather large daubs of red and blue in a Tupperware lid. Lela nodded beside him as she brushed a strange hue of electric green across a few of the tiles. Julian was sitting, securely strapped in the carrier, atop the kitchen table. His chubby hands tightly clasped the ring of keys that he had pilfered from Duo's pocket, somehow, and shook them about wildly. Both of the grand artistes had their hair pulled back behind them with bandannas, on the advice of Megan Rose, who says that Latex paint does not come out for days, and it's best to avoid splattering any in your gorgeous, signature mane. The radio softly hummed some dance theme in the background, almost overshadowed by the jingling keys. Lela still wore Duo's clothes, having none of her own. Roselyn had offered her a sparkly top, which she had promptly declined on the grounds of it being 'too small.'

"Ah. So, what are you expressing?"

"Two things," Duo answered, smearing the gray-purple over four tiles. "First, my deep-seated hatred for the war." Lela nodded in understanding. "Second, my deep-seated love for Heero." She laughed to herself before dipping one finger in the red and painting little dots around her green smudges. "What about you?"

She shrugged in absent-minded reply. "Not sure. Probably... warmth."

"Warmth?" Duo questioned. His own arms were speckled with goose bumps from the chill that the super had been so happy to finally supply them with in the absolute dead of winter.

She nodded, and glanced at him. "Comfort. Safety. For now, I don't have to worry about where my next meal is coming from, or how I'm going to change Julian's diaper."

"Oh."

"When I was a kid," she added, painting a swath of orange that led to the stove.

"You still are a kid," Duo interrupted.

"Right, but when I was a _younger _kid, I used to dream about this transient, nomadic lifestyle, the kind of thing where you roam from town to town, living out of your car, and never holding down a job or staying in one place for a long period of time. I thought that it was, without doubt, the coolest thing I had ever heard of. I mean, when I was growing up, we always knew what was going to happen. We had the same dinners planned out for nights of the week. It was really a sick way to live, in my opinion, but no one else really seemed to have a huge problem with it. Still, I always wanted to get out. That all changed a couple of years ago." She wouldn't look at Duo, but he saw the clear drop of a tear splash onto the countertop. He moved his brush, still meshed with traces of the red and the blue that he'd used to make the purple. He could think, distinctly, of two questions that he would like to ask her as he made his ways towards mopping up her tear. The rest of his head was swimming in the confusion of the life this girl had led. He swabbed over the teardrop. Then finally brought himself to question,

"What happened?"

"Just... my mom. She got pissed about Julian," Lela replied. Her brush moved for the black paint. She leaned forward, lightly brushing across the tiles on the back wall, creating a henna-like design. "Kicked me out. I lived with Victor until he died and I got evicted. This was before Julian was even born."

"Right," Duo muttered, nodding. He was swirling the bright purple mixture over and over, throwing a more psychedelic fringe to their work. "Last question."

"Ask away," she replied distractedly.

"Your arms." Her brush stopped moving. He sensed that there was a very sensitive nerve underneath the scars on her skin and that he had just reached out his unclean fingers and plucked it. In his heart, he knew that he shouldn't keep prying with this poor, unfortunate girl, who he hadn't known for more than two days. And yet, there was a logical side to his brain, which told him that she was staying at his house, intrinsically entitling him to a rather vast amount of information regarding her, her past, her direction, addictions and any federal requests below her name. He reached out, extending his hand until his finger stroked the soft, scarred skin of her bicep. She accepted his touch for a moment; it was gentle, foreign and welcome to her. Then, she jerked her arm away, under the guise of adding more snaky black vines, but really just wishing to avoid the question. "What happened?"

"Well... back when I was a kid... even up till now, really." She looked away, away from Duo and away from her painting, as though it shamed her. Oh, God, she didn't want to say this. "I was big into... pain, I guess." Duo stared into her hair, for her eyes refused to meet his. He felt a very bizarre expected shock quell over him. "So, I was an experimental cutter, for a little while. Then... I was an addicted cutter." Her fingers gripped the edge of the countertop, turning white with some kind of rage and effort. "Then, I couldn't go a day without doing it. I would sit there for hours on end, watching blood flow down my arms and congeal in little blobs over the fresh wounds. It was like... this thing, I don't know. I needed it, couldn't live without it. It served as my freedom. But then, after the eviction, I gave up on it." Finally, she let herself look at him, relaxing her hands down by her sides. "Now, going without food is how I get my masochistic buzz."

Duo nodded at her. He didn't know what on earth he could say that would make her do much of anything. He had no idea what he'd meant to accomplish by asking her those questions, and felt a sudden urge to kick his own ass simply for doing it. It was fairly obvious by looking at the scars, their shape and direction, that she'd done it herself and that it was deliberate.

"I guess you'll have to give up on that now too, huh?" It was the only thing that Duo could think to ask her.

"Yeah... I... guess so." Clearly, he had upset her, and mused to himself as to whether or not an apology was in line at this point. At that moment, a few sniffles could be heard from the other side of the kitchen. Then, baby Julian's small red lips parted as he let out a very light wail, dropping the keys beside him. Quickly, Lela dropped her brush in the plastic cup of water before hurrying to the other end of the kitchen, near the table.

As she was maneuvering the boy out of his little plastic prison, Duo put his left arm behind him, gripping it around the back with his other hand, in hopes of hiding the distinct scar on the inside of his elbow, carved into the shape of the letter, 'H.'

_A/n: Yeah, I know this one was kinda short. Oh well. Anyways, I'm getting all depressed b/c of the lacking in review. Thanks to Rasha, who always reviews hug and Sintari, who does all of my beta reading (which is no easy task.) At any rate, it's disheartening, and makes me want to not post. So yeah... reviews are good, though I do just enjoy writing the story. _

_Oh, by the way: If you've seen Emperor's New Groove, Roselyn looks a lot like Yzma. Just a fun little note there. _


	6. NewAge Board

Chapter Six-New Age Board

When Heero came back, he found Lela, sitting on the couch and playing with Julian's toes. The apartment smelled of paint, and he could faintly hear water running in the next room. He perched on the arm of the couch beside Lela, setting down a shopping bag on the floor near their feet.

"What's that?"

"Just some stuff to play with."

"Oh, cool!" she exclaimed. She repositioned Julian so that he leaned against her chest, and grabbed the bag with one hand. Heero reached in and pulled out a rattle, shaking it over Lela's head into Julian's face. He squealed excitedly, and tried to reach out for it.

"Where's Duo?"

"He's in—" The water beside them stopped, and Lela smiled. "He just got out of the shower. HEY, DUO!"

"YEAH?" Duo's voice called back.

"HEERO'S HERE!" Lela reached into the bag again and pulled out a blue container. "Barrel O' Monkeys?" Heero nodded. "Um... I'm not totally sure that Julian has the motor skills for these, Heero."

"They're not for Julian," he replied, almost stoically. "They're for—"

"Hey, kids what's—DUDE! BARREL O' MONKEYS!!" Duo darted forward, and seized the blue plastic from Lela's hands. "I love you, Hee-chan," he added, kissing Heero on top of the head. Heero cracked a small smile.

"I know," he replied, reaching one hand behind Duo's waist to pull him closer. He was wearing a pair of slightly damp jeans, and his skin was still moist from the shower. His hair had been thrown into a half-assed ponytail _(like my hair today!),_ and snaked down his back in slinking tendrils, with water droplets still hanging off of them. Duo slung one slightly dripping arm over Heero's shoulder, staring at the monkeys in his other. Lela rose with Julian, allowing a half-hearted sigh to pass from her lips. After she'd passed out of their sight into the kitchen, Heero asked,

"Something wrong with Lela?"

Duo shrugged. "Dunno. We went to Roz's today to pick up some of that old baby stuff."

"She seems kinda down."

"Yeah, I know. She's like that a lot, though." Duo planted a quick kiss on his lover's cheek. "I've gotta go dry off my hair. Thanks for the monkeys, babe." He turned to leave, but Heero's arm still caught him around the hips. He spun him slowly, until they were nose-to-nose and hip-to-hip.

"I don't know... I like it like this," he added, sneaking his fingers up ever so slightly to twist into the ends of Duo's long mane. Duo smirked before pressing his lips against Heero's. They held each other in this kiss for awhile, but despite all his longings when Heero's tongue reached for his lips, he had to decline.

"Dude, I've gotta go dry off." Heero's eyes understood, but seemed saddened by the prospect. "I'll be out there in a minute or two, okay?"

"Yeah..." Heero replied, letting go of Duo's hips. Duo began to walk off backwards, staring into Heero's eyes as he did. "Okay..." He sighed as Duo shut the door behind himself. There was a time when Duo would never bother shutting doors, but that time was going away now.

Heero drifted into the kitchen with an expression that only wanted to give in to life halfway. Lela had fastened Julian into the carrier, and was searching through the cabinets for some kind of unknown object.

"Hey," she began, turning to face Heero. Errant strands of black hair fell, framing her face and her green eyes. She was beautiful as she stood before Heero, wearing Duo's T-shirt which had been stretched just above the waistband of the black pants she wore to reveal pale flesh as her arm reached up into a cabinet. "Do you have any tomato sauce?"

Heero shook his head.

"Damn... what about tomatoes?"

Another head shaking.

"Well... dammit. I was hoping to make some kind of spaghetti for us to eat."

"Duo doesn't eat tomatoes," Heero replied softly, moving to the fridge. "He says they remind him of the war. They kind of freak him out." He dug around on the bottom shelf in the door for a moment until he pulled out a cold glass jar filled with creamy, white liquid. "We've got alfredo," he added, shaking the jar between his thumb and fingers. Lela made a face and shook her head.

"That's okay. It's why man invented Ramen noodles." She eyed Heero suspiciously. "Unless, of course, Duo doesn't eat those either."

"Duo," Heero retorted, snaking his way towards the bottom cabinet, "_loves _Ramen noodles." He grabbed three orange packages and threw them her way. "Mix it up, bitch."

Lela arched one eyebrow and smirked at him. Was it even remotely possible that this guy had just called her a 'bitch' without really meaning it? She knew that it was common language on the street, but Heero didn't seem to be the type that would even give a shit about what was going on 'on the street.' She was fairly certain, however, that at any other time Heero would have called her a 'bitch' and meant it from the bottom of his militant little heart. "Right." They moved around the kitchen together in silence, for a moment, as Heero prepared some kind of vegetable mixture that Lela didn't understand the purpose of. Finally, she got around to asking him the real question, "Hey, Heero?"

"Yeah?" He was dicing carrots at an amazing speed, and seemed to have forgotten about Lela's presence until that moment.

"Why won't Duo kiss you?"

"Duo does kiss me," he replied offhand.

"No I mean... why doesn't he... _kiss _you?" The emphasis on the word kiss meant only one thing, and they both knew it: tongue. The tongue-kiss universally represented some kind of greater depth, a more lustful bond between two people. It was not the kind of kiss that a mother shared with her child, but rather one that two passionate lovers embraced as their own It was a whole new level of symbolized connectedness and everyone knew it.

"Well... we don't see each other a lot, you know?"

"Yeah... I guess." She frowned then and looked at Heero. Behind that placid expression was something deeper, and she thought she knew what it was. "It's because of me, isn't it?"

"What?"

"You two don't kiss because I'm around."

"No, Lela."

"Yes, it is. Duo's embarrassed about something, or you are and—"

"You know, Lela, for once there is a possibility that what's going on in mine and Duo's relationship is not about _you._" Lela stared at him, wide-eyed, at the anger that he radiated towards her, before she went back to stirring the Ramen that bubbled on the stove.

"Okay."

Heero sighed. He really did not want to have to deal with this right then, and suddenly realized why it was that Wufei found women to be so weak. They were supposed to be weaker, this was true; but they also felt some sort of intrinsic, inherent need to know _everything _that was going on, whether or not they were even remotely involved with it. Heero knew why Duo didn't kiss him, and Duo knew why Heero didn't kiss him. They didn't want to, for reasons that did not concern Lela.

Suddenly, their archaic phone rang. Heero let it ring once or twice, and was sure that no one was going to answer it, when the ringing ceased, and he could hear Duo's muffled voice through the walls. He shrugged it off; it was probably a call meant for Duo anyway. The only times they got calls were from people who wanted to talk to Duo, though not a lot of people could do it. They didn't have a Vid-link like most other people, and didn't care enough to get one.

"Heero?" Duo's voice called. Heero glanced up from his vegetables before answering.

"Hai?"

"Change of plans." Duo's voice softened as he entered the kitchen, with braided hair, but still sans a shirt. "That was Q-man. He and Trowa are having a shindig and they want us to go."

"Dude, we just started dinner," he replied, gesturing over the Ramen and veggies. He really didn't feel like going anywhere that night, or most other nights when push came to shove.

"Um... dude. It's _Ramen._ It will keep, I promise." He moved closer, wrapping his arms around Heero's waistband. "C'mon, Hee-chan," he whispered, nuzzling his nose into Heero's neck as his fingers snaked around under his T-shirt. His index finger found Heero's bellybutton and pulled down gently. Heero's eyes slipped closed, and he fought down the lust. _Damn that Duo,_ he thought to himself. _How the hell does he do this stuff?_

"Okay... fine. We'll go."

"Woohoo!" Duo cried. Heero felt the abrupt absence of his warmth and sighed mentally.

"Duo." The purple eyes looked back at Heero's. "You can't go transie on me."

"No sweat," he answered with a grin. "Hey, Lela. You going like that?"

Lela looked up, her green eyes filled with surprise. "I'm going?"

"Yeah, babe. You need to have some fun," he added, throwing one arm over her shoulder. She smiled at him.

"I've still got a son, you know."

"I know. Q-man says it's no big deal. So come on, let me get you all prettied up." He pulled her away from the Ramen that grasped her attention so intently. Heero sighed as he pulled the steaming pot off the stove and turned off the burner. Once again, Duo had taken charge, and his word was law. He held complete and total dominion over Lela and her appearance.

In the bathroom, Lela sat on the stool with her eyes closed while Duo smeared a shimmering purple across her eyelid. He was perched on the edge of the countertop with his legs spread across Lela's stool and his feet clinging to the supports. He had his tongue stuck out and licking the upper side of his face, obviously deep in thought. "Okay, open." Lela's eye fluttered open gently, as she looked at Duo, trying to see beyond him into the mirror. He put his long elegant fingers to her chin and tipped it up.

"Duo?"

"Hm?" he replied, suddenly looking away and fumbling to his left to find another color amid the plastic cases.

"You and Heero never kiss." Lela was trying to fight the same battle yet again. Duo came back to center, weapon of choice in hand.

"Yeah we do, babe. Close."

Lela closed her eyes again, and felt the silky smooth brush along above her eyeball. "I know you do, but you just don't seem that... romantic, I guess."

Duo sighed, moving to her other eye. "Well, y'know... we've been together for a couple of years. This kind of shit just happens after awhile. Things cool down, y'know?"

"Yeah, I get that but—"

"Open," Duo interrupted. She did so, and he watched her for a moment then began to fumble with the cases again, searching intently through a pink bag.

"I mean, you guys don't even act like it that much."

Duo sighed and let his head hang, shoulders slumped in defeat. "Okay, Lela. Did you want to accomplish something with this conversation or did you just want to bring up yet another reminder that mine and Heero's relationship is in fact going to shit?"

"Sorry," she began, placing one hand on his knee. "I just wanted to know why."

"I know," he sighed. He leaned back and stared into the incandescent light overhead. The back of his braid gently touched the mirror as he closed his large, cobalt eyes. "We've been through a lot of shit, y'know? I mean, there's all kinds of crazy history between us that you don't know about."

"Like what?"

"Like, for example, that when I fell in love with Heero, he was a vacuous lack of soul with a mind to carry out orders and a trigger finger that got its fill of exercise."

Lela sat there in shock. "Wow," was the only word she could properly muster for the occasion.

"I know. That's not even the half of it." Duo leaned forward, posing himself to finish her make-up. "But, listen, dollface, you shouldn't be concerned with our crazy shit. You've got a kid to take care of, right?"

"I guess." For a moment, Lela's mind had transcended Julian, although he always subconsciously lingered as a steady concern. Still, she searched Duo's face, and saw the traces of desperation that lingered there. She realized then that they had been there since she'd known him, but she had never seen them there before, like the first time someone realized where Waldo was hiding was the most obvious spot of all. Duo had a pale perfection about him, an almost perfect veneer, but his desperation ran so deep that it had cracked the façade and let a few bits and pieces slip through.

"Done," said the triumphant voice. Lela blinked twice. She hadn't even felt the lipstick on her lips, but it was there now; the two spongy shapes were painted a bright red. In fact, her whole face was made up, managing to avoid the circus clown look that some people got from purple eye shadow and red lipstick. Duo did good work.

"You are a master, Duo Maxwell."

"I know," Duo replied, looking in the mirror at his own creation with one elbow leaning on her shoulder. "Believe me, I know."


	7. Beyond Crystal City

Rating: R, for language, sexuality, and adult content 

_Warnings: yaoi, self-harm, teenage pregnancy, and just general strangeness_

_Pairings: 1X2, 3X4 (the X being mostly implied)_

_A/N: Yeah, so I definitely haven't updated in a while. That's my bad. I've been working on my school's musical (Seussical) like a mofo. Seriously, I'm so sleep-deprived it's not even funny. However, I'd like to think that I make up for my lateness/ general oddities by making this a long chapter. In yo face._

_Disclaimer: I don't own Gundam Wing. I said it. Let me die now._

Chapter Seven- Beyond Crystal City 

"Why did you make me wear this?"

Duo glanced over at Lela, who was glaring at him from beneath a long-sleeved black fishnet shirt with a lime green spaghetti strap tank top. Her knees were close together, bound at the thighs by a ruffled black skirt, and they bounced up and down from the tilted ball of her foot, clothed with steel-toes and thick rubber soles. "Because you're the perfect punk. Why, what's wrong with it?"

"I feel like a slut."

"But, you're not."

"People are staring at me."

Duo sighed and leaned on Heero's shoulder for support. The other boy slid one arm over the braided man's shoulder, and Duo felt himself involuntarily snuggle closer. He didn't want to be that close to Heero in public, for reasons he didn't understand. That was probably why he ignored the feeling that made him want to abruptly pull away. They had spent too much time waiting for the subway to come, he determined. The four of them, Julian safely beside Lela in his carrier half-asleep, had been sitting in the stagnant vacuum of the train station, surrounded by concrete with too much reverberation for about fifteen minutes. The circular cement archways closed in around them and Duo tried his best to focus on Lela's dour grin instead of the long tunnels before and behind them. "No one's staring at you, Lela. We're alone."

"You're staring at me."

"They way a mother stares at her child," Duo replied easily, before putting a hand on the raven-haired girl's jerky knee. Its jittering began to subside under the warmth of his touch, the smoothness of his hand against her bare skin. "I'm simply proud of my creation."

"You've created a whore."

"Don't insult an artiste," Duo retorted, brushing off the remark the way one would a fly. "Besides," he added, sitting up straight so that he could shake off Heero's arm. He didn't feel like being reminded of the relationship tonight. "I think you look bee-_yoo_­-tiful." He leaned in close to her and gave her a kiss on the cheek. It was not, Lela swiftly noted, a peck, but an actual kiss. He smiled at her as he pulled back. "Don't you agree, Hee-chan?"

"Hn." Heero didn't want to be there. He didn't like parties, and he didn't like the subway. It had a claustrophobic, closed-in feel. There were thousands of bodies, pounded close together, all waiting for the same thing, all trying to find the same answers by taking the same routes to the same places. It was an all-too real metaphor for life than suited Heero's needs. He was also not altogether happy with Duo, who had made a common practice of manipulating Heero's lust to get his way, and then trying to snub him for the rest of the evening. Maybe that feeling was just a snippet of lover's paranoia, but that didn't change the stark reality of the emotion itself. The honest truth was that Heero, who was never afraid of anything, was terrified that Duo wanted to leave him. What was even more terrifying was the feeling that he had recently discovered: that he might actually want to leave Duo.

The solid air of the train rushed past, pushing against the stagnation and fighting the tension that lingered there, and began to roll into the station. The three of them rose, with Lela hooking her arm around the solid plastic of the carrier. The train was mostly barren; an idle African decked out in a brilliant shade of hot pink stared out the window with a clutch in her hand, a gothic pasty teenager glanced up from head banging to see Lela. He almost managed an emo-grin before he saw the baby that came in tow. Then, he went back into his stupor. Lela rolled her eyes. She despised the subway, and hadn't ridden it in quite some time. Julian, of course, loved it, and had always been absolutely silent when he rode, his wide green eyes staring as the lights went by overhead. Tonight, she was certain, would be no exception.

As they boarded, Heero couldn't help but eye the teenager with suspicion. He glared very small daggers into the black T-shirt the boy was wearing, and slinked a defensive arm around Duo's waist, pulling the braided man against his hip. The anonymous subway passenger didn't show any outward signs of being gay, and anyone else would not have been concerned; however, Heero knew that every high school student (especially the Goth/punk) would be, or at least claim to be, bisexual, and that there was no way this kid would be any exception. Duo rolled his eyes.

None of them spoke as the subway cars rolled along through the tracks, picking up passengers sporadically. Finally, at Crystal City, the stop before Quatre's, something inside Heero's mind snapped. The train faded away around him and he was crouched behind an overturned car, something in his hand. What was it? He glanced down. A detonator lay in his palm, the red button staring him in the face. He looked forward. There was a tall building, windows mirroring the traffic below. He understood.

"Mission accepted."

"What'd you say, Hee-chan?" For an instant the subway came back into view, the dark tunnel rolling along behind Duo's braided head, but then it disappeared and melted into the smog of the colonies.

"Duo? What are you doing here?"

"Dude, we're going to Quatre's. Don't you remember?"

Suddenly, a ping sounded above him. At the same time, his thumb released the trigger. He smiled, that cold cruel smile that he always had right after he saw one of his explosive masterpieces come to life.

"Mission complete. Let's go, Duo."

"Go where?" Duo's face was mired in confusion as Heero grabbed his sleeve and pulled him up. "Dude, what are you doing?" Duo exclaimed, stumbling back slightly.

"What, you want OZ to find us?"

"What the hell are you talking about? OZ is over. The war is over."

"Shut up!" he cried before raising the back of his hand. It struck Duo's face and he stared at him in complete shock, as a red mark slowly appeared on the soft skin. Heero frowned. The detonator was gone. The field was gone. He was on the subway again, with the passengers, the woman in the pink suit, the Goth boy all staring at him with wide, confused eyes. Lela was slack-jawed, rimmed with shock.

"Heero...?" Heero didn't know what to do. He stared around, feeling cornered, trapped. He wanted to grab a gun, but he knew he didn't have one. He could feel a slight panic rising in his breath, crawling up his throat. Then, he felt a gentle warmth cross one of his hands. Duo had sat down and was pulling Heero beside him. Obediently, the worn-out man slumped against Duo's shoulder. Pale arms shrouded in black cloth encircled his shoulders, and he gripped them with both hands, clinging like a small child as he buried his face in Duo's sympathetic neck.

Quatre was a nice man. He lived in a nice penthouse apartment with his nice boyfriend. He was a friend to other nice people, who lived in nice houses and nice apartments. These people owned nice things, had nice jobs, and generally led nice lives.

The exceptions in Quatre's circle of friends were Duo and Heero, and the blond businessman knew it well. Still, he eternally enraptured himself in the role of the perfect hose. He was searching through a rack of wine bottles, trying to find just the right vintage. He suddenly felt a pair of cool arms slide low down on his stomach, and smiled as he felt the soft lips of his lover against the smooth skin on his neck.

"What are you so worked up about, love?" whispered the deep voice that his ears had grown too ache for in the stillness of the night, the voice that called him 'love.'

"I'm just trying to find a bottle of wine."

"You've been staring at that rack for fifteen minutes," Trowa replied before kissing him again.

"There's a lot of wine here." He flushed a bit, knowing what Trowa was thinking; he also knew that Trowa was right, and that he was taking this thing with Duo and Heero too seriously. But, it had been awhile since they were all together. Quatre had run into duo (as Megan) at Crazy Legs once or twice. Usually, when he tried to invite them over, Heero was off doing Preventer work on some colony or another and Duo would be making artwork on the walls or the floors, unable to be disturbed. Trowa had gone over there for beers or to chat with Duo, but they hadn't seen each other in months. Wufei was making his yearly pilgrimage to China, visiting the grave of his fiancée, Meiran. Even though it wouldn't be the five of them together again, Quatre wanted it to be perfect. Trowa reached above him and pulled down a bottle.

"Merlot. Good year. Napa Valley." He set it on the counter. 'That will be fine."

"But, what about the—" Trowa cut him off, spinning Quatre's lithe body gently in his arms. He leaned in and gave the blond a soft kiss.

"You worry too much. We are dealing with Duo. Don't worry. I'm sure we'll go through more than one bottle."

Quatre sighed, a small smile gracing the angelic features of his face as a slightly pink tint rose to his cheeks. He stared up at Trowa with wide, shimmering turquoise eyes. "You're right, Trowa," he said softly, "You're always right."

Trowa let a half-smile come to his lips before he slid one hand under the slime line of Quatre's jawbone and brought the two of them together in a long, lingering kiss. Quatre couldn't save for manners, and pushed his tongue between Trowa's lips. The other boy reciprocated with great east, as they let their hands go free.

Which made for a very nice explanation when Duo knocked on the door and Trowa answered it with his shirt half tucked-in. "Good to see you, Duo."

"I'll say," the braided man replied, glancing down at the active crotch of Trowa's jeans. Abruptly, the other man pulled the door in front of him, under the guise of allowing his guests to enter. When he came out, he saw the girl who they'd brought with them. Her hair was such a dark black that it looked almost blue, and she looked like the hybrid child of a punk rock prom queen and a biker.

"You must be Lela," Trowa greeted, keeping his voice cool and collected.

The girl nodded and nudged the baby carrier towards the tall, lean man that stood before her. "This is Julian.'

Trowa couldn't resist another soft smile as he squatted down to see the baby. One of his hands reached out, and his fingers stroked the silky traces of hair that streaked across Julian's baby-skin pale pink/white scalp. "How old is he?"

"Five months."

"Beautiful," he whispered, in a voice only loud enough for himself to hear. He wanted a baby, more than he could possibly imagine explaining to anyone else, though he never spoke a word of it aloud. He had basically established his role as the righter of wrongs and the placater of things that could not be righted. Quatre was sort of like Trowa's own little baby (except that he had no intention of doing the things he did to Quatre in the bedroom with a small child, or any degree of child for that matter.) He worked hard to make sure that the blond didn't work too hard, or over think simple things, like he had been a moment ago. Although it wasn't always enough to compensate for his yearning after a baby, it generally worked out just fine.

"Hey, guys!" called Quatre from the kitchen. "Who wants wine?"

"I'm up for it!" Duo happily made his way into the vast kitchen as Quatre uncorked the green bottle. Now, Duo knew that he was not an alcoholic by any means, as he watched Quatre pour a lengthy cascade of blushing purple liquid into the elegant longs-stemmed glass. He just liked to drink casually with friends and at parties and at work. But they didn't keep liquor in the house, because Heero got depressed/suicidal when he drank the hard stuff. The boy remained blissfully unaware of Duo's stash of Wild Turkey and Frangelican (with a hint or two of vodka), which he had tucked away in the bathroom drawer that held the curlers and the hairdryer. Almost as soon as Quatre had pulled the bottle's thick neck from his glass, Duo took it and drank. Quatre eyed his friend, concern riddling his angelic expression.

"You're not drinking again, are you?"

"Looks like it," he answered sarcastically as he grinned in response. He could feel the warmth swimming through his body after the first sip, which put the smile on his lips.

"But... I mean, not like you were before, right?"

"Q-man," he replied, slapping his arm over the blonde's shoulder. "Don't worry your beautiful little head over it, okay, dear?"

And even though Quatre knew he would keep worrying about Duo until one of them died, he nodded, and poured a fourth glass. "Does your lady friend want one, too?"

"Who, Lela?" Duo asked, his voice echoing around the glass at his lips. "I don't know," he added, lowering the wine glass. "I've never seen her drink. Hey, Lela?"

"Yeah?" came Lela's voice from the living room. The eclectically dressed young girl, who bore that name, carrying a gray basket with a baby inside, soon followed it.

"Would you like a glass of wine?" Quatre asked, always remembering his gentlemanly manners, manners he'd been taught and that had been drilled into him since he was small. He hoped that Lela would appreciate them, as he could only that her dress was caused by Duo, as vengeance on Heero for not letting him come as a woman. Quatre never had understood just why Duo loved to go out in public in women's clothing. Duo was a fly-by-night cross dresser; he told Quatre that he'd never take on being a woman full-time. He had a lot of respect for the female end of humanity, which made him being gay even more curious than it already was.

"What kind?"

"The merlot's open, but we've got cabernet, sauvignon and France for reds, or Chardonnay, blanc-a-blanc, and this Honey Moon stuff that Trowa picked up if you're in a white mood." He held back a slight smirk of superiority. This girl couldn't have been a day or two over sixteen. There was no way in hell she would know wines.

"Oh... Honey Moon's always a great choice. To me, the merlot has always been more of a dinner wine, but I'd definitely take a glass now. Hold onto that cabernet, the sauvignon I think, okay?" Duo and Quatre were both effectively shocked.

"Where the hell did you learn wines?" Duo exclaimed. He mused to himself how much she knew about mixed drinks and hard liquors. Lela simply shrugged, accepting the glass that Quatre had robotically poured and extended to her.

"When I was younger, we moved around, mostly in Europe. My mom used to take me wine tasting when we lived in Italy, and then in France you have wine almost every night, no matter what age you are. It's freaking sweet. Mmmm..." she added, taking a sip. "Dry... good year."

"I so had no idea about that."

Lela shrugged and took another sip. "I've only known you for a couple of days, Duo. I don't expect you to know my whole life story. In fact, that might actually freak me out."

"So, who's the little prince?" Julian had closed his brown eyes, deep asleep in the carrier.

"Julian."

"He's adorable," Quatre gushed, tiptoeing towards her. He put one slim finger underneath the squishy fat of the baby's chin. "How old?"

"He's five months," Lela answered, pride cracking through her voice like sunshine through the planks of a roof.

"We're storing a crib for one of my sisters, "Quatre whispered. "Do you want to put him down there?"

"Sure," she replied, setting the carrier on the table as Duo took the wine glass from her other hand. Heero watch the other exuberant man sneak a sip out of Lela's wine glass. He hated a drunk Duo. Quickly, he lifted the glass from Duo's clingy fingers, as Julian was raised gently from his carrier into Lela's strong arms.

"Trowa?" Quatre half-whispered, half-called. The brunette glanced towards him. "Would you help her, please? I'm going to finish up dinner." Trowa nodded and placed a gentle hand on the small of her back, leading her through the penthouse.

As he set up the crib, Lela swayed back and froth in the silence. Trowa felt obligated to start up some form of inane small talk in order to hold the girl's interest. Maybe then she wouldn't notice the way he was looking at her baby.

"So, you're Italian?"

She shook her head, noting the earnest that reflected on Julian from Trowa's eyes. "Technically, I'm English, but I was born in America."

"Wow... you must've moved around a lot."

"Yeah... my stepfather was a politician, and we traveled all over the world with him. For the most part, he ignored my mother and finally left her altogether in Moscow, paying a tabloid magazine to invent a cover-up so that it was easy to abandon us. I lived there for a few years."

"Oh... you don't have any kind of accent, you know?"

"That's because my mother doesn't speak Russian. I had to speak English to her every day."

"Why's that?" This conversation was no longer some mindless method of becoming vaguely acquainted with her; he was truly interested in this girl's life and times.

Lela wanted to tell Trowa that her mother didn't speak foreign languages because she was a snotty, pretentious bitch. Instead, her answer was much more befitting that of a political daughter, which was the sort of person she had been raised to be. "My mother held firm to the belief that she was an American and shouldn't learn how to speak the languages of these inferior countries. I learned them because I was in school. I remember," she began fondly, a light twinkle in her eye as Trowa completed the assembly of the crib. "When I was young, and my mother made me angry, I would only answer her in French or German or whatever I felt like. I refused to speak English. Often, that only made things worse."

"Hm," Trowa answered, obviously mulling this over, turning it round and round in his head.

"Oh, you finished the crib!" Lela exclaimed, her green eyes shining with admiring delight.

"Oh... I did, didn't I?" Trowa muttered distractedly, as he tilted his head towards the floor. Lela's glassy eyes softened slightly at his remark, and she stepped closer to him.

"Do you want to hold him?"

Trowa stared up at him in confusion. "What?"

"You've... well, you've been eying Julian since I got here, so I thought you might, maybe want to..."

"Oh, I'm sorry," Trowa, instinctively, responded with a blush.

"Oh no, it's alright, I understand." Her eyes fell upon her child, a gentle pride radiating form them as she watched the sleeping babe. "He's amazing."

"He really is," Trowa whispered before even realizing he had lowered his voice. There's a perpetual sense of awe that goes along with babies and small children. "Would you... mind if I did?"

"No... just try not to wake him up, okay?"

"Yeah, no problem," Trowa replied swiftly, his fingers anxiously scrambling to find the squishing warmth of this infant in his arms. Gently, he folded Julian into his grasp. The infant squirmed for a moment, but then found comfort, and nuzzled himself against Trowa's chest. Lela smiled softly, watching Trowa enter his own element with a child nested against him.

"I'm going to go and chat out there. You can just put him down when you're done, okay?"

"Sure." Trowa wasn't even looking at her. She just hoped he'd heard what she'd said. She began to walk out, but then stopped as though she'd been reminded of something terribly important. One of her hands held the doorframe as she turned back to face him.

"Trowa?"

He looked up at her, this time noting the tone of her voice. It had seemed almost worried, but when he looked at her, he could see her teeth between twin red lips, parted in a smile. "Yes?"

"Remind me to call you when I need a babysitter." He half-smiled at her, and glanced down at the sleeping Julian, to make sure that everything was going swimmingly (which, of course, it was.) When his eyes came back up, the girl was gone.

Duo sidled up beside Heero while Quatre tended to the food in the kitchen. The blue-eyed boy had been staring out the window with the city lights reflecting up at him through the panes of glass. He snaked one arm around Heero's waist, taking a sip from his glass before leaning his head on Heero's shoulder. The boy barely turned his head to acknowledge him before continuing his watchful gaze over the downtown of the colony.

"Having fun?" He nudged the other boy's neck with his head.

Heero shook his head.

"What are you doing?"

"Thinking. You need something, Duo."

"You told her." Duo hadn't meant to say it. It was the reason he'd come to talk, and it had been plaguing his mind the whole day, but he hadn't meant for it to explode out like that. That wasn't very good decorum, something that he felt was a necessity while invading the Fabulous Life of Quatre Winner.

"Told what?"

"You told Lela. About Victor, I mean."

"I did," he answered, his face still stone cold as he held the vigil over the city. He hadn't made any move to touch Duo, which shocked and comforted him. He couldn't be the only one in the relationship, as he'd told himself so many times before."

"I thought you weren't going to."

"I changed my mind."

"Why?"

Why? Heero sighed and turned his head to face his imaginary lover. Dark chocolate bangs fell just so over his shining eyes. Duo looked up towards him. All he needed ways for this boy to know the truth, to know how soft he'd gone after the war. He was supposed to be bigger than all of this, bigger and better than sympathy, mercy, pity, and all those other things that made war harder than it had to be. When he looked into Lela's eyes that night, he realized just how much he had taken away from her and from others. He learned how unfriendly the phrase 'fire at will' could be, and he wished more than anything to peel back the consequences of his actions, pull them off and wipe the eulogy slate clean. Everyone was anonymous to him, until that moment, when he saw the loss reflected in Lela's eyes and found out just how much he'd hurt her. These were all things that Duo couldn't know, that Duo would never find out, or even be able to understand. So, he gave him the only answer that came to mind.

"Because, I did."

Duo stared at him, his eyes docked at Confusion Bay. He had never totally understood, Heero, but this way something new. The Perfect Soldier did not change his mind unless it was necessary. The Perfect Soldier was intrinsically right about all things, no exceptions, do not pass go, do not collect $200. He had his mouth open to say more, when he heard someone behind him. It was Lela, sans Julian and Trowa, who was wandering into the kitchen with Quatre.

"Okay, guys!" called the over-excited voice of the blond. "Dinner's on!"

Duo sighed, and let go of Heero, who lingered just a moment longer before following him into the kitchen.


	8. From Russia With Love

_Rating: R_ For: profanity, sexuality, cross-dressing, teen pregnancy, angst 

_Pairings: 1X2, 3X4 _

A/N: I've been mondo-ly busy lately. Seussical just about killed me and then we had auditions sigh It's all good. In this chapter, we have a near-lemon dun dun dun and a crazy Russian introduction. Anywhere, if you're uncomfortable with the concept of... men... fornicating, watch for this chapter. Oh, and angst-sensitivity be wary. There's a lot of that too. Chapter title is a James Bond movie. R&R, etc.

Chapter Eight- From Russia With Love 

Heero sighed heavily as he rode the subway back to the apartment. The Russian sat beside him, not saying much, which was perfectly fine with Heero. Unfortunately, he had learned all of the wrong languages, and Russian was not one he'd ever begun to know. Une knew that, and he had a sinking feeling that she'd sent the foreigner home with him simply to piss him off. He'd have to turn to Duo for a way to get his vengeance. The pair went into the apartment, and were greeted, yet again, by the poignant odor of turpentine and latex paint. The Russian wrinkled his nose in what appeared to be disgust and muttered something under his breath. It wouldn't have mattered if he'd jumped on top of the couch and shouted it; Heero still wouldn't have understood a single babbled word of it.

Duo strode in, typically parading himself about in a grandiose manner. "Good, evening, Hee-chan." He was going to make an effort to save their relationship when he saw the blond at Heero's side. Then, all of Duo's defenses were on. He crossed his arms. "Who's he?"

Heero shrugged. "Some refugee from Russia. I forget his name."

"What's he doing here?"

"Une put me in charge of him until the organization can set him up with housing."

"He must be important."

Heero shrugged again, setting his bag on the floor. "I suppose. I haven't gotten around the reading his file yet."

"Hm..." Then Duo turned his gaze on the Russian. "Privet," he added experimentally. The big blue eyes before him lit up.

"Privet!" exclaimed the newly exuberant voice. "Meenya zahvoot Kolya! A ty?" He then extended a hand.

"Meenya zahvoot... what the fuck?" he moaned, taking the Russian's hand.

"You speak Russian?"

"Just the one word."

"What the hell did you say?"

"Well... I thought it was 'hello'... I'm starting to rethink that."

"Hey, Heero," Lela's voice called from the kitchen. She tossed a wrapped-up diaper into the garbage can before walking into the living room with Julian in one arm, and a bottle in the other. "Who's your friend?"

"We don't know," Duo replied, still staring blankly back at the tall man. Neither of them knew what to say, so they just watched each other.

"He's a refugee from Russia. Une put him in my charge. He doesn't speak any English... at all."

"Ah..." then she turned her head towards the foreigner and slid Julian's bottle into one of the enormous pockets of her (formerly Heero's) jeans, extending the now-free hand to him. "Privet. Meenya zahvoot Lela. A ty?"

"Kolya," the Russian answered, wary of this girl. The man with the braid had appeared to be well versed in Russian, but he'd been mistaken on that account.

"Kak dela?"

"Ochen harasho. A ty?"

"Eh. No harasho, spasibo."

"Lela?" she glanced over at Duo. "When the fuck did you learn Russian?"

"When I lived, worked, and went to school in Russian for three years. I told you guys about that."

"Oh... right..." The Russian tapped her shoulder and began to speak rapidly towards Lela, hope in his eyes. She nodded.

"Dah. Kolya wants me to tell you that he's really happy to be in your home."

"Oh..." Kolya tapped Lela's shoulder and spoke again. She stared at him for a moment, her brow knitted in confusion before she questioned him. He pointed at Duo. "What's he saying about me?" Duo demanded, fear striking him. Lela ignored him, laughing as though Kolya had made some kind of grand joke, and then making a quick Russian explanation. Duo heard his name in their conversation wand was struck, yet again, with nervousness. "Lela... what are you telling him?"

"He thought your name was 'what the fuck.' He likes your hair."

"How do you say 'my name is?'"

"Meenya zahvoot," Lela answered off hand. Kolya glanced at her, and she simply shook her head.

"Oh... uh... Meenya zahvoot Duo."

"Dah," Kolya answered. He already knew this.

"Fantastic," Heero muttered, trudging off to his room. The other three stared on, confused at this boy. Kolya asked Lela something, and she simply shrugged and spouted a few words.

"What'd he say?"

"He was wondering what's wrong with Heero. I told him you'd take care of it."

"Ah... then I suppose it's Duo to the rescue, ne?" The boy walked off towards his bedroom, while Lela and Kolya went into the kitchen.

Heero was flopped back on the bed, his blue eyes staring upwards into the ceiling. His mind was lost on himself, plagued with a thousand questions without answers at once. He heard the door close, and few moments later felt weight on the bed beside him. He glanced to his left and saw Duo, lying on his side, grinning.

"Hey, there, Hee-chan. What's wrong?" Heero sighed. Duo was being straightforward, which meant that there was a chance that he actually cared about the conversation at hand.

"Nothing," he replied stonily, turning his head so that it pointed at the ceiling again. He felt Duo's warmth lean towards him and knew that his remark hadn't ended the conversation, much as he wanted it to.

"What do you mean nothing? Do I look like a sucker to you? You just turned down a perfectly good hunk of Russian. Who took the jam out of your donut, dude?"

"It's not important, Duo." He could feel the frustration radiating off his companion, but didn't do anything to aid him. He didn't care if Duo knew what was going on, or even if Duo felt unloved and ignorant. Somehow, in that moment, he didn't even care about Duo. That feeling soon passed, but that wasn't the point. The point was that in that moment, that instant, he hadn't given a shit about how Duo felt or what would happen to him. It was a bittersweet liberation. He felt partially freed from the seeming one-sidedness of his sinking relationship and that was a sweet fire in him. However, the warmth within him was suddenly iced over by the actuality of what had just happened. He hadn't cared about the lover, the one person he was always supposed to be able to rely on. Then again, Duo hadn't always been the most reliable lover himself.

"Oh, come on..." Duo moaned beside his ear, before he swung one leg over Heero's hip. He pulled himself upright, using Heero's shirt as handholds. Heero couldn't help the slim ribbon of erotic pleasure that whipped through his spine and snapped at his tailbone. He did his best to ignore it as Duo leaned down and propped himself on his elbows so that he and Heero were only inches away. When Duo spoke, his breath smelled like a hot, spicy cinnamon. Heero couldn't help but wonder what he'd been eating. "What's on your mind, kid?"

Heero thought about saying something romantic like 'You,' or 'Sex,' but those words managed to just barely evade his tongue. He leaned up as much as he could, and his lips blindly groped for Duo's. They touched, just barely, and Heero pulled back down again, letting his head fall against the pillows. Duo smirked and watched the brunette's dark bangs fall across his eyes.

"Oh... is that what this is about?" he asked. Heero stared at him. What did Duo mean by that? The braided boy leaned forward and kissed him softly. Then, he sat up, all the weight from ass pressed against Heero's hips. Heero had to hold in his breath, trying to avoid just this kind of situation. This was not good. Wait... they were supposed to be lovers. Duo's nimble fingers moved to Heero's blue shirt, undoing his collar button. "You're jealous of Lela?" He leaned down, and kissed the newly exposed skin of Heero's neck.

"No, Duo," he mumbled, softly, his voice already lost in pleasure. He tried to pull himself out, but it'd been a long time. A really long time. He felt the boy's fingers fumble with two more buttons, and then the soft warmth of Duo's lips against his aching skin. Duo's tongue swirled in that one spot where the two sides of his rib cage came together before he looked up at Heero.

"What's the matter?" he asked, his violet eyes filled with a teasing mystery. Heero grew to hate that mystery after a few years. His hands slid lower, and undid another of Heero's buttons. "Have I not been paying enough attention to you?" His tongue dipped into Heero's bellybutton and he grinned up at him. "Because, I can fix that, love."

Heero was shocked by the word. He remembered the first time Duo had called him 'love,' in that English way that people do to be funny. Except that Duo had meant it. It was a beautiful word, and held a beautiful meaning to him. That had been a while ago. A lot of things had changed since then. In addition, there were several factors to consider about this situation. First, there was a five-month-old, a seventeen-year-old girl, and a mysterious Russian man of unidentifiable age, all within ten feet of where Duo was planning on making him scream out in erotic pleasure. Second, he'd had a shit-tastic day, with Une breathing down his neck and sending him home with some rogue communist, and was really not in the mood for Duo to toy with him, his body, or his mind. Third, he wasn't totally sure how he was feeling about Duo at this point. Jesus Christ, was he PMSing or something? Not totally sure about feelings... honestly, how can someone sound like more of a woman than by saying something like that? But, it wasn't like Duo hadn't given him reasons to doubt how legitimate their relationship was. He always had a difficult time understanding if Duo slept with him because of obligation, habit, a need for sex, or love. Before Heero even realized he had disappeared into his own head, Duo had slid back the front of his shirt, exposing his entire pale chest and was running his hands over Heero's stomach. Duo's fingers slid around the sides, outlining the muscles around Heero's hips "So... what do you want?"

"Duo?"

"Yeah?" Duo's voice was heavy with something. Heero didn't want to imagine what right then.

"Get off."

Duo sat upright and cocked his head, lost in a state of confusion. "Come again, m'dear?"

"There is a baby, a Russian, and a homeless girl in our apartment, Duo. Now is not a good time." They both sat there for an instant, their minds held taught in some kind of battle. Heero plainly read the emotions on Duo's face: hurt, sadness, a wilted lust, horniness, rage, envy, confusion. All of them were there and even some ones that he was sure he had never seen gracing Duo's gorgeous eyes. Gorgeous eyes... Heero could remember the first time he'd ever gotten lost in his gaze. It was different then, and now all he wanted was to be free of those eyes, beautiful violet eyes. "Get the fuck off."

Duo rolled off of him, and sat up on the edge of the bed. He turned to Heero, his eyes flashing for just a second as their gazes locked. "It's never a good time, Heero." He rose and headed for the door, adjusting his black T-shirt. Heero hadn't realized the words until then. 'Come with me, into the trees...' He sighed. He loved that shirt. Duo's voice came back then, haunting him as his slender fingers reached for the doorknob, and those gorgeous eyes that had remained as specters in his vision glared thousands of icy daggers in his direction. "It never fucking is."


	9. Dr No Strikes Again

_Rating: R_

_For: Adult content, alcohol-y goodness, profanity, violence, etc._

_Pairings: 1X2_

_Disclaimer: I really shouldn't have to say this more than once. This doesn't belong to me. I am not special. ::tear::_

_A/N: Yeah... sorry I didn't update, I fell out of a tree. No, seriously. Anyway, this is angsty. This whole damned fic is angsty, but this chapter doesn't help. For those who don't know, Dr. No is a nifty James Bond movie from the way-back-when days when Sean Connery was James Bond (freakin sweet.) R&R. _

Chapter Nine- Dr. No Strikes Again 

Lela had gotten to the point where she could navigate the apartment's kitchen with an expert grace. Even Heero was beginning to rival her skills of direction, considering the limited (see also: nonexistent) training she'd had. At the moment, Julian sat in his carrier; shaking the rattle that Heero had bought him, while Lela wandered around, glancing through cabinets, and asking Kolya questions.

"You like Ramen?"

"Ramen?" he replied inquisitively, cocking his head to one side. The word sounded strange and foreign on his tongue, and it was clear that he'd never heard it before in his life.

"Ramen... umm..." Lela squinted one eye closed, trying to process an accurate way to describe Ramen noodles (knowing that nectar of the gods wouldn't do.) "It's like... these noodles, with flavor powder..." Kolya wrinkled his nose slightly at the concept of eating powder. "No... it dissolves into the water as you cook the noodles... and ... uh... you kind of eat it like soup, you know?"

"Yeah," Kolya answered, chewing on his lower lip. This made little sense to him, but he wasn't about to argue with this girl, who spoke perfect Russian. It simply amazed him. He knew she couldn't be American; Americans rarely went to the trouble of learning the languages of countries they were in. They'd always had a feeling of superiority because of their freedoms, but never totally realized just how young they were. He felt a need to pry into this girl. "Lela?"

"Hm?" Her response was absentminded as she shuffled through a cabinet.

"Are you Italian?"

"Not really. I've lived there."

"Oh... where are you from, then?"

"America."

He stared at her like she had lobsters crawling out of the various orifices of her body. She stared back at him like he was insane. "What?"

"You're American?"

"Yeah."

"I wouldn't have guessed."

"My grandmother's full Italian. I look a lot like her."

Kolya was going to tell her that he wasn't talking about her appearance. He'd been thinking to himself about how different she seemed from the other people he'd met on the colony. First off, she spoke his language, so he could communicate with her. Une had only known basic phrases, and a translator had made up his file, and then been promptly moved to another case. He understood that. The situation there was crazy right now. He shook his head abruptly, a fan of feathery blond bangs falling over his eyes. He didn't want to think about that; he'd just gotten out, and now he was thinking about the people he'd left back in. He turned his attentions to the beautiful girl before him, heating up a pot of water until it came to a boil. He was about to tell her how beautiful he thought she was, and how much kinder she was than anyone else he'd met and how grateful he was that she spoke Russian.

That was all before Duo came slamming out of the bedroom with his shirt half-on and death in his eyes.

"Duo?" came Lela's voice from the kitchen, as she leaned away from her cooking to get a better handle on what was going on. He ignored her, his bare feet slapping the tile beneath them before he reached into a drawer and groped blindly for a minute. Finally, he found what he was searching for. He stalked back across the living room and out the door without a word. Lela stared after him, not knowing what to do or what to say. Kolya watched behind her, with equal, or perhaps greater, confusion running thick through his eyes. "Hey, Kolya?"

"Yeah?"

"Watch Julian, okay?"

"Yeah. No problem."

With that reassurance, Lela followed Duo's angry trail out into the hallway. There, she saw Duo huddled outside the doorframe, smoking a cigarette and staring with no expression in front of him. She gently let the door slide shut in her hands before coming around in front of Duo and kneeling, her hands on his knees. He didn't really seem to register her presence, but somehow she knew he saw her. "Duo?" He didn't react at his name. "Duo? What's wrong?"

"Don't worry about it, Lela. You have a fucking kid and some Russian to re-learn don't ya, Wonder-fucking-woman?"

"Okay: uncalled for. Just because you've got shit doesn't mean you can take it out on the rest of us. Now, what the hell is your problem?"

"What is my problem?" he questioned back, spitting back the words. It was almost impossible to tell whether Duo was on the brink of laughter or utter tears when he spoke. "My problem is you and your goddamned kid marching your merry ways into my fucking life. My problem is that fucking Russian sitting in my kitchen and acting like this is the fucking Brave New World. My problem is that Heero won't even fucking _look _at me like he gives a shit anymore, and I'm really sick and goddamned motherfucking tired of being the only one who gives a flying fuck anymore. _That _is my fucking problem, Lela. Satisfied?"

Lela had no idea what to say. Duo angrily drove the butt of his cigarette into the hallway, creating a deep brown burn on the green paint. Then, he began to fumble for the pack in his back pocket. Lela reached behind him and put one hand on top of his. Her green eyes caught his in her gaze, and she held him there against her. "This..." she began, the boldness in her voice attempting to overcome the cracking feeling that she felt in her throat. "This is about Heero, isn't it?"

"No..." he sighed, letting his head flop down, chin to his chest. "This is about me being a fuck-ass."

Lela's fingers slid underneath his chin, tipping it up. She saw the liquid tears that filled his eyes, and couldn't help but wonder just how many people had seen Duo Maxwell cry. "Always look up," she whispered softly, repeating Duo's own words as their own inside joke. For a moment, there was a flicker of a tacit understanding between the two; to Duo, that it was okay for him to cry, to Lela that she needed to do for him what he'd done for her.

In one instant, Duo realized he couldn't do this anymore. He couldn't handle everything here, trying to keep up his job without them thinking he was an alcoholic, helping Lela raise Julian, and attempting to maintain a relationship that had been floundering for months with a stone wall of a man who wanted nothing to do with him. He bowed his head against Lela's shoulder, and let his arms lock around her waist. His weight forced her backwards off of the balls of her feet, and her tailbone hit the ground hard. She ignored the sting of pain, even as Duo's forceful embrace threatened to swallow her whole. Instead, she reciprocated, gripping her wrists behind Duo's shoulders and forcing herself on them, which pushed Duo back towards the wall. Then, she felt his fingers, clinging for her shirt, and a slimy wetness seeping into her soft skin. Her hand glided to the thin line of Duo's spine, where she could feel the shudder of his lungs as he tried to breathe and sob at the same time. She felt overwhelmed with sympathy, and let her fingers instinctively slide up to his neck and twist around the tiny wisps of hair at its nape, as Duo poured his soul into her.

"Fuckin' A..." Duo whispered.

Lela agreed.

A pair of green eyes snapped open abruptly. It was dark all around, and the whole room had a suspect cold feeling. Lela frowned in spite of herself, and glanced at the clock. The green neon numbers told her it was 3:37 in the morning. Why was she awake? Then, she felt it. A low, grumbling in her stomach. She sighed. Now that she got to eat regularly, her stomach kept her up. She had a tendency to not eat enough to satisfy her through the whole night. She pushed back the sheets, already slightly irritated at herself and her insane metabolism. Suddenly, her eyes shot down. There was a thin beam of light shining underneath her door. She was on alert then, though she didn't know why. Heero must have been rubbing off on her. Still, her curiosity and hunger overpowered any inhibition she would have had, and she slowly left the room.

As she padded into the kitchen, the first thing that greeted her, albeit the brilliant light, was a harsh, sterile smell. It smelled like a hospital, or a house that was too clean. She frowned, and peered around the tabletop. Duo was there, squatting on the floor with a toothbrush and a bucket. As she got closer to the black figure, she realized that he was scrubbing away at the lotus blossom that he had painted there. She gasped.

"Duo?" He looked up at her. She couldn't describe what she saw in his face. It was like nothing she'd ever seen before. His cheeks were flushed, his lips wet and parted. In his eyes was a watery, flooded feeling, which soon turned to a sort of joy, as he answered Lela in his standard jovial tone.

"Hey, Lela. You're up at strange hours." He leaned back onto the balls of his feet and dibbed the toothbrush back into the bucket. "You're just like that crazy Russian. He went off to the library or something. I think he wants to learn English. What're you doing up?"

"I was... hungry. What... what are you doing, Duo?"

"Oh... I'm just scraping off this stuff."

"Are you gonna paint over it?"

"I wasn't planning to."

She took a few moments to take all of this in. Duo didn't want the art on the floor anymore. Duo wasn't going to paint anymore. Duo. Duo didn't want to paint, didn't want to keep the bright colors on the tiles and linoleum, the only thing that made their apartment truly beautiful. Something was wrong, something she couldn't determine, only detect, like a faint, stinking odor. It was bitter and harsh against her senses. She leaned down, closer to the bucket. It was foaming slightly and filled with mostly clear liquid.

"Why?"

Duo shook out the toothbrush and turned his head back down onto the floor, focusing on erasing the last hints of that lotus blossom so that Lela couldn't see the hurt in his eyes. "I dunno. Sometimes... you grow up, Lela. You learn things. I've learned that doing this doesn't help anything."

She frowned. "I thought... I thought it helped you."

"You thought wrong." He hadn't meant for it to sound as sardonic as it had, but now that he returned his mind to the comment, he felt guilty. He wanted to look up at her, but he couldn't bring himself to let her see him cry again. Instead, he worked the soft bristles in harder. "I mean... it's kind of like artists don't get any respect in their time." He dipped the brush in again and then continued to scour the floor. "All the people that historians call 'the greats,' the archaic like Picasso, and Matisse, even fucking Van Gogh... they didn't get any recognition. I've already gotten my recognition, and don't know why I should try and take it away from geniuses like them."

"I didn't know you were trying to compete with ancient masters. I thought you just did it because it was beautiful."

"It's not that beautiful." He wanted to shrug her off. The flower was almost gone now, and that made him feel better. He just didn't want Lela to understand why.

"I loved it." Her voice was sad as she spoke, her eyes falling on the walls. She wondered how long it would be before he changed those too.

"Well, it's not about you!" he snapped. "It's not about what you think, how beautiful you thought it was. I don't want it. I don't want this shit around and they're my goddamned paintings. Why shouldn't it be my decision?"

"I just... I want to know why."

Duo rose to his feet, surprisingly quickly considering the length of time he'd been squatting there. "Well, you know what, Lela? You don't always get to know why. People don't always get to know everything or understand everything. You don't understand why Victor died."

"Victor died in the war. Heero shot him, because of sleep deprivation and decimation."

"But why did it have to be him? Why does it have to be any of us?" Duo folded his arms around his shoulders. "Why do we have death and angst and pain? What does it prove?"

"All sunshine and no rain bring only a desert."

"Oh shut up. You're the one who's always telling me not to be all quasi-Buddhist and shit. Take your own fucking advice for once."

"What the hell is wrong with you?"

"Nothing that isn't always wrong with me. I'm not a fucking ray of sunshine, precious. I can't make all your problems go away, so stop bugging me about it."

"Duo, why can't you just talk about what's going on?"

"Because I don't want to fucking talk to you!" he screamed, kicking the bucket with one foot. It toppled over, spilling its contents onto the floor around him, and suddenly the whole room was permeated with a dirt and turpentine stench. "Jesus Christ, take a fucking hint!" He stormed off then, slamming angrily back into his room and shutting the door with a violent thud behind him.

While Lela was mopping up the nasty mess and toking in chlorine fumes, Duo was fumbling in his bathroom drawer. He gripped the unopened bottle of vodka, and unscrewed the silver lid. Quickly, he knocked back a few gulps of the clear ambrosia. It burned against his throat, but nowhere near as much as existing. His lips still tingled as he raised it to his mouth for his next guzzle. He'd missed this.


	10. It's Tough To Have A Crush

_Rating: R_

_For: language, sexuality, cross-dressing, etc. I've been over this._

_Pairings: 1X2, 3X4, OCXOC (which no one really cares about. It just adds to the plot)_

_A/N: Sorry I haven't updated in forever. I've had all kinds of craaaaazay stuff to do. Anyway, this chapter was kinda fun to write, and I hope you enjoy it. The title is a song that I want to say was by Dashboard Confessional, but I actually don't know. Anyone who knows and could send me the correct artist, you'd be much appreciated (and conceivably glomped.) Moving on, R&R if you so desire. _

Chapter Ten- It's Tough To Have a Crush 

When the colors were gone, the joy went with them. After Kolya was placed into government-housing (read: shithole) things were calmer. At the same time, there was a thick, heavy tension that hung over them. Lela had begun to know, slowly, why Duo had gotten rid of those pictures. He didn't want them there because the joy was leaving his life. Heero began to work more and more, and show up at home less and less. Duo would disappear before work started and return the next morning in the same clothes with a massive hangover and no cover story. No one ever bothered to ask for it. Lela was beginning to feel like a mother of three, handing Duo aspirin and water, and keeping Heero fed and at least partially rested. She visited Kolya often during the day while Duo slept, riding the subway up until right before Crystal City and following her senses blindly into a Slavic quarter past Crumley Boulevard. Sometimes, she took Julian; other times, she satiated Trowa's lust for a child, and dropped him off at their penthouse (after a glass or two of Quatre's new vintage and some small talk.) Then, she'd head to Kolya's, sometimes stopping for empanadas and bringing them to the Spartan apartment. They sat on the floor and chatted in idle Russian.

"So, why did Duo get rid of the art?"

"I don't know," Lela answered, wiping a smear of strawberry goop of off her cheek and sucking it off her finger. "He seemed really upset, and didn't wake up till late the next day. I'm worried about him."

"He acted like such a nice guy."

"He is a nice guy. That's not the point, here. There's something wrong with him, but I don't know what. I really want to help him."

"Well, there's only so much you can do if he won't talk to you about it."

"I know," she replied, sighing into her empanada. It was her favorite flavor, strawberry and cream cheese, but she couldn't really get into it. She was worried about Duo and Heero and what would happen when she came back.

Heero turned the key in the lock on the door of his apartment. Before he'd even finished, the doorknob twisted beneath it, and the door swung open. Standing before him was Duo, his braid loose and messy. Heero smiled at him, taking in the wife beater and loose cotton shorts that he'd slung around his hips. Suddenly, he felt his pelvis drawn forward, and his lips were pressed against a hot, warm mouth that began to massage them. Duo's two fingers were hooked in the waistband of his jeans, and their groins were pressed tightly against each other. When the braided man withdrew from the other astonished one, he grinned, and backed up, pulling Heero with him.

"Lela and Julian are at Kolya's." His voice was ragged and heated as he spoke. "I want you, Heero. I want you," He leaned in close now, slipping one hand around Heero's slim hips and leaning his tongue into the crook of Heero's neck before speaking again, "inside me."

Heero felt the return of that erotic whip, snapping with a heated electricity across his spine as Duo threw himself upon his mercy. His hands slid to the other boy's waist, fingers slowly gliding up the sides and underneath the hem of the undershirt. Duo disentangled himself from Heero and whipped the pesky cotton off his body with such intensity that it caused him to stop and take a breath. Heero could only watch him, the rapid rise and fall of his chest as he panted. His eyes greedily took in the lithe form before him, light pink nipples punctuating the hairless chest and slipping down into the delicate lines of muscles before tapering into a bellybutton and the waistband of those infernal orange shorts. Then, he grabbed Heero by the shirt and pulled their lips back together into a deep, intense kiss. Raw passion swirled around them as Duo's hands went free and roaming.

"Lela?"

"Yes?" she answered. Kolya couldn't help but stare back at her, even for just a moment. She was truly gorgeous, with long, thick raven hair, and glistening green eyes. He knew he was a couple of years older than her, and had probably seen more of the horrible aspects of the world than she had. But, that wasn't what really struck him about her. What struck him was her kindness, understanding, and her willingness to help someone as stubborn as Duo. He wondered if he could elicit the same kind of affection from her. As he leaned his hips closer, he realized that wasn't what he wanted at all. He wanted more than she would give Duo, more physical; more love, more everything, than Duo would ever get out of Lela.

"You're beautiful." A light pink blush rose to her cheeks, and she tried to hide it with a bite of empanada. That also gave her time to stall while she thought of something to say. Her mind wasn't quite to the point of racing yet; at the moment, it was a steady undercurrent of her standard worries integrated with the bits and pieces of what Kolya was speaking about, and how fucking good that empanada was. She needed to learn how to make those. Okay, focus time. It seemed like Kolya was hitting on her. After all, she'd known him a little over a month. Her eyes scanned him without his knowledge; secretly glancing at people was a skill she had mastered. He couldn't have been much over twenty, and had a look that was atypical for a Russian. His hair was thick and blond, and fringed around his eyes, typically masking their electric blue shade. They didn't have the intensity of Heero's; they were more jovial usually, laughing at a joke that no one else understood. In the middle of the iris, running around a track, was a neon silver streak through them. Within the streak, she could see the grand race of the id, ego, and superego, all competing and vying for first place over his mind. His mind was always a race, a game, a continuous competition to win out over all. When she was looking at him, she could never tell who was winning.

"Thank you," her soft voice whispered, quickly glancing down. He didn't want her looking down. He wanted to see her, see her eyes looking back into his and saying the things he wanted to hear without ever speaking. He couldn't stop himself from inching closer to her, until he felt her warmth seeping into his leg through the khakis on his thigh. He wanted to draw back then; he was scared, terrified that she wouldn't speak to him anymore. But he didn't pull away. He couldn't stop himself, didn't want to stop himself. He wanted this closeness, wanted there to be no gap between them. He reached up with his pale hand, the fingers and palm red and rough. When Lela felt his touch, her head snapped back, pulling her cheek free. Kolya felt a blush rising, his cheeks burning. He leaned away quickly, barely breathing as he realized his failure to get her near him. Gently, Lela set down her strawberry joy on a napkin near her feet, then adjusted her hips on the thin carpeting was spread over the floor. She wasn't sure what she was doing then, couldn't tell if she was trying to pull herself closer to him out of loneliness, lust, sympathy... she wasn't sure of anything except that she _was _moving and she was touching his leg, was pulling his hand between hers. She had taken his hand between to of hers. He looked up at her, and she saw the childishness, the juvenility of the situation inside his mind.

"Lela..." He spoke softly, as though her feared what she might say.

"Your hands are cold," she replied, her voice warm and welcoming. She rubbed her fingers over his, warming the rough skin against her own smoothness. Slowly, he raised his other hand, and she took that one too, massaging him gently. She smiled at him, and he couldn't help but smile back.

Duo could feel the hard pressure of the wall, digging into the flesh of his back as Heero pushed him up against it. He felt the hot, slick tongue inside his mouth, moving free of any moral or physical restraint. He breathed in deep through his nostrils, and the hard, masculine sweetness of Heero greeted him. He moaned softly into the other boy's open mouth. God, he'd missed this. It'd been so long since they, the two of them, had done anything like this. Duo had had it, of course, but it wasn't the same. The anonymity of a partner at work or at a club didn't have the same passion, raw need, as it did with Heero. Nothing beat the heat that passed between them, bare chests together, fingers fumbling to touch each other and work off the bottom clothing that was deeply in their way. He couldn't describe what he felt, only knowing that he wanted more, thrusting his tongue in deeper, pulling himself in closer, feeling the fine sheen of sweat begin to pepper his skin. He knew Heero had the same feeling; they were almost equal in passion for each other, a phenomenon that neither of them had known for quite some time.

Suddenly, Heero pulled back, gasping for breath. His chest rose and fell with a rapidity that he had never known before, but wanted to feel again. This was better than the first time he and Duo had made love, better than anything he'd ever felt before, and yet, it lacked something. Heero didn't feel the same lust that he'd felt all those times before, that same anticipation of when it would happen again, and how much better it would be. These things had always compounded on themselves, up until that moment. But maybe, it was just him. Maybe they weren't in deep enough yet. Maybe, he hadn't given himself over yet. Duo's cobalt eyes were staring back at him, lost in this foreign expression of confusion. He didn't want to lead Duo on under the guise of sex, not this time, not after he'd done it to him so many times. Besides, knowing Duo and his level of expertise, this shit could only get better.

"Bedroom," he breathed, his voice thick and husky, as he pushed on the waistband of Duo's shorts. Duo began to wriggle out of them as Heero added, "Now."

Kolya didn't know what was going on. He had a feeling he had been rejected. He got that distinct impression from his actions and her responses. He was certain that he was not going to recover from this, that she was going to leave and not come back to visit him again. He had known this inside his head; the information was cemented in there, for certain.

Yet, Lela was holding both of his hand between hers, warming them with a gentle friction. Which, in turn, made him think otherwise

Inside his head, he could think of all sorts of witty things to say, things like 'my mouth needs warming up too,' and 'you've got some talented hands.' But those were not things that he deemed worthy for saying to Lela. What he really wanted to do was run his fingers through her hair and tell her that he loved her, and kiss her cheeks and her collarbone and her ears, and give only her pleasure. He didn't want to think about himself, what would happen to his own body because of her and her love, or even just lustful sympathy in return. He just wanted her pleasure to be because of him, wanted her to be happy and feel alive because of him and his touch. But he didn't see that happening, and that filled him with a kind of sadness he had never known before. He remembered his old lover, Lamina. She had been lusty and profane and self-occupied, but by far the best sex that he, or most other people, could've gotten on that side of the country. But Lela was different. Lela didn't constitute her life solely of sex; the feeling of being with someone else, their two bodies together, didn't overpower her life. For that reason, he could only bring himself to move in slow increments.

He pulled his hand free of hers, feeling the absence of her warmth against his fingers almost instantly. He reached up again, this time tucking his hand along the side of her neck, letting his fingers curl around her hair and ear. He leaned in near her, so close that their noses nearly touched. Lela's breath caught in her throat as she was met with the full intensity of Kolya's eyes. His lips barely parted as he spoke.

"Ya tebya lyublyu."

Lela understood every word that he said. She knew exactly where this was going, what was coming, what was going to happen to her.

Yet, it still caught her by surprise, taking her breath away when he kissed her.

Heero pulled back from another kiss atop his lover. Duo was panting heavily, wishing for Heero to stop his teasing and go for it already. He didn't want to wait any longer; he'd been waiting for so long already. He couldn't take it anymore. He whimpered to the other boy, who plainly ignored him. Heero smiled down on Duo, his blue eyes filled with this coy mystery, one that Duo didn't see very often. That was his signal that the best sex of his life was about to come, and he braced himself for it. He heard Heero's voice come to his ears again, not anticipating the breathy words that would emerge.

"Are you ready for this, hure?"

Duo barely managed to nod his head before it began.

Lela felt Kolya's lips against hers. She felt the warmth, rushing into her body; it'd been so long since she'd been kissed, really kissed, even by a kid like this. She could feel herself reciprocating, kissing him back like it was going out of style. She was hungry, and needed him to feed her.

But that stopped when the phone rang.

Kolya ignored it, sliding his hand over the curvature of her shoulder, but Lela knew that there were a limited number of people who knew this number. "We should answer that," she said into his mouth.

"Let it ring," he mumbled back, his lips against hers.

"What if it's Une?"

Kolya pulled back and Lela rose to her feet. She grabbed the white receiver off of one of the cardboard boxes that served as a table. "Hello?"

"Lela?"

"Trowa? What's going on?"

"Something's... Something's wrong with Julian."

Lela's heart fell through her chest like a solid stone weight. "What?"

"I don't know what happened. I looked away for a minute, and he was... god, I don't even know what he was doing. I called the paramedics, and they're on the way."

"What?"

"Lela, you need to help Julian. You need to get down to the hospital."

"Which one?"

"Parkroad Memorial. Hurry, please."

Lela slammed the phone down. Kolya looked up at him, confusion miring his eyes. The conversation had been in English, but he could still sense her tone, her emotions as she spoke.

"What happened?"

Lela wouldn't meet his eyes.

Three screams pierced the evening sky at the exact same moment, terrifying anyone who managed to hear all three (though no one did): the moan of Duo's climax, the wail of Lela's lament, and the screech of ambulance sirens, rushing towards Trowa's apartment.


	11. Baby Of Mine

_Rating: R_

_For: language, sexuality, and all those things we've already gone over_

_Pairings: 1X2, 3X4, OCXOC_

_A/N: Man... I really feel bad about all this angst. I wish I could make pink elephants appear sporadically in the coming chapters just to make it less sad. Oh well... no one's dead. You think I'd kill a baby? Sick, man. Freakin sick. Anyway, the Chapter title is from our good buddy Dumbo, and that really sweet song that his mom sings him. Makes me so sad! _

Chapter Eleven- Baby of Mine

Lela was folded in half in a hospital waiting room chair, her eyes pressed against the bones in her kneecaps. She couldn't bring herself to sit up and stare around the place that she was, the harsh white walls and the sterile smells and beeping machines. She couldn't move her body or force herself to work out the kinks that were slowly forming along her spine. Her head was swimming with thoughts, ideas and worries. Oh, the worries that plagued her heart and mind. What was wrong with Julian? What would happen? Would he be okay? Where were Duo and Heero? How was she going to pay for this?

Would she have to run again?

Kolya felt an intrinsic obligation to consol this statuesque husk of the girl that he had been kissing only moments before. He had placed his hand on her back and rubbed his fingertips lightly over her shirt, feeling the sharp points of her vertebrae and the thick elastic of her bra. She didn't respond to his touch, but didn't shy away from it either. He tried to think of something else, remove his mind from the state of Julian, but nothing would come into his head.

Trowa sat perpendicular to them, stroking Quatre's hair as the blond slept, curled up against him like a cat. He was watching Lela as his long fingers stroked the soft golden locks that pressed against his chest. His green eyes followed her unmoving, languid form as her arms dragged on the cheap linoleum tile. She was simply lolling there, like a puppet left without any master, abandoned in an attic somewhere, too far away to be found again. The thick sympathy overwhelmed him, yet he did not stir to help her, for fear of shaking his angelic lover into wakefulness. Instead, he watched her, the hefty mourning of a mother who feared the death of her children the way that ordinary people feared the death of themselves. And it was because of this that Trowa could offer her no sympathy; because as the war had trudged, ever-steady on, he could recount all the times he'd wished for death, prayed for and caused it, and all the times he'd caused someone else to feel the pain that Lela felt. But he shook the thoughts from his head; Julian was not dead, nowhere near it, or at least he thought that was it. No one would tell them anything about it, no matter how they begged and pleaded. Trowa had never felt this helpless before.

Kolya slipped down out of his chair and leaned his lips towards Lela's ear, very close, so that when he whispered words in a somber tone of Russian, no one else could hear. "When I was a boy, ten years old, we lived just outside of Stalingrad, my family and I. We needed extra money, so my brother, Dmitri and I went out looking for jobs. One day, we went to the hospital in town, and they said we could help them. They gave up both sticks and cages, and then led us onto a ward. There were chickens everywhere, running around, loose and crazy like they'd had their heads cut off. They told us we had to catch all of them, and then they would pay us." He leaned back into his chair then, crossing his arms over his chest. He stared around for a moment at the cleanliness of the walls that surrounded them, and smiled to himself before adding, "This is a nice hospital. Good hospital."

Lela didn't know she was laughing until it was too late for her to stop. She pulled back mechanically, as though grabbed by the neck, leaning on top of her thighs with hands against her eyes. He body shook with a combination of laughter and oncoming tears. "Lela?" came Trowa's voice from somewhere in the distance that the blackness covering her eyes would not let her see. "What happened?"

She could barely speak through her emotions. "He... he was talking about chickens... in a hospital." And for reasons she couldn't understand, and probably wouldn't want to even if she could, she began to cry, flinging the joy from her voice and exchanging it for bitter tears. They were hot, wet and salty, and rained down in brilliant streaks across her blistering red cheeks. Her breathing intensified, pulsing in sharp, ragged intakes, as her knees pulled up into her chest. She locked her hands around the opposing wrists and buried her eyes in the knees of her jeans. Kolya felt this need, an instinct, and he followed it. He put his arms over her shoulders, skimming down her back with a stray pair of fingers sliding beneath her shirt. She curled herself against him like a toddler clinging to his mother. She could feel the deep, even strokes of Kolya's breathing, and they calmed her, yet she could not stop this idle flow of tears. His chin was atop her head as he rocked her back and forth, wrapped in his arms. She heard him, his voice sinking into a bass as he sang a soft lullaby to her, in Russian. She recognized it; he'd used it on Julian before, and it always hushed the boy.

"You my baby darling,

Fitfully cry at night

I wish you were sleeping

And resting ever on

I wish to hold you

Tight in my arms

And tell you of my dreams for you

Of you being my greatest joy

And that you are my greatest hope."

She felt her tears subsiding, the weight of her eyelids growing. His voice was soothing, deep and rich, like a fine chocolate, or wine. That was what she needed... wine. She wanted to feel the sweet grape subtly burning as it passed over her lips. She dreamt of wine even as his song continued.

"You are my baby darling

The wonderful pride of my heart

I wish I had the money to give you

All the things you wish for.

But, you are still my baby.

I offer you all the love I have

Every drop of care is there

Just for you.

My baby darling."

Lela remembered what had made her stop drinking after Victor died. It was when she had no money and no food and Julian was hungry. She had pressed a wine bottle to his lips, and watched him as he sucked away at it. It took her a moment to sober up as much as was necessary to realize how horrible it was. She had jerked it away from him and thrown it into the alley, against the brick wall that lay on their side.

"You need not be afraid

When you know that I'm around

I hold you safe within my arms

You're my favorite little thing

And I shall never bring you harm

Baby, darling of mine."

She had sworn to herself then that she couldn't let anything get out of hand like that again. She had promised herself in that instant that there was no way she would ever allow herself to hurt Julian like that again. She had to gain control of herself, had to be the person she needed to be, which was probably the only reason she was alive then.

What she knew, right then, was that her son was in the hospital. Instead of her shooting heroin to numb the pain, she was there, in the waiting room, being sung to by a Russian and waiting for any news of his well-being. What she didn't know was whether or not that made her a good mother, and what it would take to make her even better.

Duo shoved the wrinkled green bill into a thin black slot. It wriggled back out at him. He ran it back and forth across the metal sides of the machine and tried again. The bill returned, green lights smirking back at him. He sighed heavily and picked up the bottle he'd already gotten. He'd dig up change somewhere. He strode across the tile, sandals slapping with a vapid echo around the white walls. He'd thrown on the first clothes he'd found (which happened to be a wife beater, baggy black cargo shorts, and orange flip flops) and actually gotten a taxi to take him and Heero straight to the hospital, rather than using the subway which would have taken a gross excess of time that he did not have. He stopped just a foot from Lela, extending the plastic bottle to her. "Diet Coke."

Lela didn't move. She was staring into the plate glass window, into the object inside.

"What happened?" asked Duo, unscrewing the white plastic lid, and trying again. She shook her head.

"They don't know."

He leaned closer to her, regretting how much he'd enjoyed that afternoon, how much fun he and Heero had had before they'd gotten the phone call. They'd been lying there together; savoring the last lingering touches of lust when the phone had rang. Heero had reached over with a languid hand, despite the protest of Duo's lips against the pulsing veins in his neck. From the receiver spewed out a much of jumbled, frantic Russian.

"Kolya?" He sat upright, the blue bed sheet sliding off his chest and pooling around his lap. "Slow down... what are you saying." He paused again, trying to hold onto his Perfect Soldier calm. Duo peered around him, and could hear the hard consonants and smashed vowels echoing outside the plastic chamber. "Get Lela. Kolya. Go get Lela." There was a brief shuffle, and he heard the feminine voice over the line. "What happened?" A pause. "Oh my... is he okay?" Another pause. "Yeah... we'll be there."

"What's going on?" Duo's whole body had gone from a relaxed post-passion extravaganza to a thick, tense ball of sinew. He was sitting up beside Heero now, ready to spring into action at any moment like a wind-up toy.

"Julian's in the hospital."

And that's where they were.

Duo put the bottle to his lips and sucked. An icy wave of carbonation passed through him, and he sighed. He could totally dig some alcohol right now. A good old-fashioned shot of bourbon, like you see in cowboy B-list movies. Or tequila. He could dig exotic right now. He could dig anything right now.

He tried to focus back in on the situation at hand. He turned to Lela, his cobalt eyes thick with compassion. "Are you okay?"

She didn't look at him. She hadn't looked at him all night, no matter what he said. Heero had stopped trying to talk to her not long ago, claiming that he didn't want to make things worse. He was trying to pick up some Russian from Kolya in the waiting room. He saw her frame, her expressive shoulders hunching, and sighed internally. She was much too young for this. "My baby...my little boy is in a box," she whispered, pushing her index finger against the cold glass. It left a foggy sweat print against the surface when she pulled it back. Julian was inside a plastic incubator, hooked up to a couple of tubes and things, looking like a baby doll still in the factory. He was only seven months old. Why was this happening?

"It's rough," Duo answered.

"You don't know, Duo. You don't know the half of it."

"You need to eat something," he replied, abruptly changing the subject. "And you should get some sleep. We're all worried about you."

"I'll sleep when I can hold Julian in my arms. Fuck off if you think I'll do it otherwise."

He could tell from the thick lines around her eyes that she wouldn't be up for long. He took a swig of Diet Coke and decided to let it go.

An hour later, she was slumped against Kolya's shoulder, her mouth just slightly open as she slept fitfully under the fluorescent tube lighting. It was all too much. Duo was angry at Fate. Fate had caused the war, caused the Maxwell Church Tragedy and the plague and the deaths of thousands. Fate had controlled life as they all knew it for as long as he could remember, genocides and ethnic cleanings and population controls.

But, the bastard had taken things too far this time.


	12. Chasing The Dragon

Rating: R 

_For: language, adult problems, etc. _

_A/N: One of the few chapter titles that isn't a song ::hooray::. Sorry it took so long to get this one; I recently became employed. Anyway, standard warnings apply, plus some substance abuse. All standard disclaimers apply as well. Enjoy the show. _

Chapter Twelve- Chasing the Dragon

Duo sat cross-legged on the countertop with a thick brush and a bucket of white paint. His hair was tied back, bandana slicked over the thick chestnut locks, as he worked the bristles back and forth over the beautiful designs he'd painted. Kolya was nearby, hunched over a dense workbook, a pencil between his lips. The radio echoed a somber tune behind them as Duo worked in and around the curves in the cabinetry. He paused then, watching the pain drip down slowly as he took a drink from the plastic bottle beside him. The liquid inside was clear, but elicited a slight cough from the bottom of his throat, the burning sensation tingling on his lips. This taste had always reminded him of blueberry muffins… Heero's favorite breakfast, and one of the only foods that Duo was very proficient in making.

"Duo?" He shook his head, knocking the thoughts from his mind before answering the voice that had called him.

"Hm?" His own voice wafted over the room, warm and liquid. Kolya frowned and stared down that the book, pushing the pencil's eraser against his teeth. Duo took a drink and slipped off the counter, adjusting his shorts slightly as he made his way towards Kolya. "You learning English there, bud?"

"Dah," he replied, sliding one finger down the list. "Une… give me book and say 'you learn.' So… I learn," he added, gesturing vaguely over the tome. They were written in Russian script, something foreign to Duo. He leaned over one of the other boy's shoulders, placing his hands on the back of the chair, and tried to analyze the symbols. He'd seen Russian before; once or twice, it'd been written on signs around a weapons base. He knew the Russians basically dominated military technology, and had for years now. It tended to be a falsified attempt to make up for their turbulent society. The only words he could recognize were ones that roughly translated to 'Danger' and 'Exit.' Neither of those was on the page.

"I have question."

"Yeah?"

"Dah. You die art, yes?"

"What?"

"You… you make art, then… you die it."

"I… I paint, yeah…"

"Dah, and then you die it."

"I painted over it…"

"No… uh…. Color is beautiful, yes? But now…" He looked down again, hunting for the right word. "Now, gone."

"Oh! I die it… I _killed _it, right?"

Kolya stared back at him, the gorgeous blue eyes wide and mired in confusion. Duo pursed his lips. Then, he got an idea. He grabbed a piece of paper form the drawer and sat in the other chair beside Kolya's. "Can I use your pencil?"

"Dah," he replied, extending it to him. Duo drew quickly, running lines over the page with a tremendous speed. Then, he began to point with the graphite tip. "Okay, so we'll call this art, right?" Kolya simply nodded in reply. "Okay, so you're saying I 'die' art, that I get rid of it, right?" He tried to demonstrate this by scratching over the little picture he'd made. Slowly Kolya nodded again.

"Yes," he added. "You die it… is gone."

"Right, but see that's wrong." Kolya looked at him like he had lobsters crawling out of his ears. "Okay, see… you can't 'die' something. You would say you killed it, understand?"

"Nyehtt," Kolya answered. For a moment, Duo was proud of his ability to keep up with Kolya, learning the words 'yes,' 'no,' and 'fuck off' in the other boy's language. Then, he remembered that he still had to explain this concept.

"Okay…" he began slowly, frowning. "Okay… the thing is when you say something 'dies' you're saying the subject is dead. Like… you're saying I'm dead. And… die can't have a direct object, like 'it.' So, you want to say, 'I killed art.'" He decided he didn't to explain the concept of living objects and what words applied to them. "Get it?" Kolya nodded in agreement, even though he didn't understand all the way. Duo was trying and that was what mattered. "So, does that take care of your question?

"Know… I want to learn why."

"Why? Why what?"

"Why you kill art."

Duo stopped then; his mind froze. He couldn't operate then. He didn't want to answer that. This was how he'd always been. He was good at the jokes, the easy things but he never wanted to explain why. He liked to think that sometimes there was no why; things just were, they must be dealt with and that was that, do not pass go, do not collect two hundred dollars. In short, Duo Maxwell did not do 'why.' He just didn't

That made for the most probable explanation of why the door opening came as such an overwhelming relief to the silent tension that orbited around the kitchen table. Quickly, perhaps too quickly, he pushed away the wooden chair and rose to greet whoever had just arrived.

"Hey, Hee-chan," he murmured, coming in close to his lover, who had just come home. Things had changed between them since that afternoon, that one moment of reckless abandon, in which neither of them had cared about what was happening, except for what ran around the thick pulse that passed between them. For the hure, there was less desperation in his actions, his motions and his mind; he felt more relaxed. For the other, this only mounted, as did his own worry that he no longer felt anything for his hure.

So, when Duo's lips met his, he had his mind elsewhere, trying to ignore the hot stickiness of alcohol on his Lover's breath.

"How's Lela?"

"She won't leave."

"Fucking duh."

Heero ignored that as well. "She doesn't have any clothes or toothpaste or anything."

"I'll leave for work early and bring some things by."

"Good… Trowa's with her now." Heero didn't say it, but none of them wanted to leave Lela alone for any extended length of time. She already had a history of self-mutilation, and the last thing that anyone needed was a live baby with a dead mommy.

"Good. You hungry?"

"A bit."

"I can make you something to eat, if you want."

"You should probably get ready for work." He didn't want to owe Duo any favors at this point, just in case something went wrong. Duo shrugged him off easily, taking Heero's hand in his own and lacing their fingers.

"I'll be fine. I already look perfectly feminine." Heero stole a quick glance over the slender body beside him and saw that it was true. Even wearing his hair back, the short khaki shorts and fishnet shirt gave him an undoubtedly effeminate gleam. He watched Duo as the other boy moved around the kitchen, closing up the paint can and washing out one of his brushes. Heero knew he was trying to hide the way he emptied out the plastic bottle that had indubitably been filled with some kind of liquor. He also knew that there was no way Duo could put such a thing past him.

"Duo?"

"Yeah?"

"You… go to hospital tonight, yes?"

"Dah," Duo answered, winking at Kolya before straining up into one of the unpainted cabinets and groping for a spice of two.

"You… take me with you, yes? Please?"

Duo tossed a wily grin at the Russian across the room. "No problem, Kolya-baby. We'll leave in like… thirty minutes, okay?"

"Dah," Kolya replied, looking back down at the book. He decided he'd take it with him. Lela would be proud of how much he'd learned.

As Duo spread the mayonnaise over a slice of sourdough bread, he calculated in his mind how he was going to pull this off. It wouldn't be easy, not with that damned fucking Russian. But, he owed him.

Kolya stared out the window of the subway, examining the bright lights. He hadn't been on one of these since he was a small child, and forgotten how surprising they were. Duo, now Megan, seemed completely unphased by everything around him/her, and was gently tapping out an intricate finger pattern on one thigh, encased in fishnet. A commuter, nameless and faceless, was giving Duo an easy once over. Duo smiled with red lips, the lipstick smudging and spreading even further across his face. The man winked at him, and he couldn't help but muse to himself as to whether or not this man knew he was trans. Perhaps, that was the attraction.

The train lurched to a stop down by Chinatown, and Duo moved quickly. He slid the black messenger bag over one shoulder and took Kolya's hand with his other, pulling him off the train.

"Duo?"

"Yeah?"

"This… is not hospital."

"I know. I have a friend in this area. I'm getting her some dinner."

Kolya didn't understand all the way, but he didn't want to be lost in this city either. He pumped his legs, trying to keep up with Duo/Megan's spike heels as they clacked towards the exit. When they resurfaced, the first waves to hit Kolya's senses were the rich smells of boiling noodles and animal blood. He didn't understand the latter as much as he did the former, nor did he fully comprehend why Duo was stopping there instead of just heading straight for the hospital. But, he wasn't about the question his guide through the city, and the only reason that he was going to see Lela that evening at all. He wanted her to know what he'd learned, and get her help on some things. In some ways, that made him feel like he was a little schoolboy, but at the same time he knew that he needed to do whatever he could to take her worried mind off of Julian.

Finally, Duo pulled him into a dark shop behind a narrow wooden door. It wouldn't have mattered if he'd had the time to read the sign; he couldn't understand Romanized lettering at all. He asked Duo where they were, but remembered that he didn't speak Russian. The frustration overwhelmed him inside the dusky shop. He wished for Lela, pulling one strap of his bag tighter over his shoulder. The whole place felt like it had been there too long for anything good to come out of it. As Duo/Megan made it to the counter, Kolya's eyes fell upon a slim Chinese boy, no older than his own companion.

Duo flashed a wide grin over the counter. "Hey, Wuf-bear! Did you miss me?"

The dark eyes narrowed. "Kisama. I've told you not to come here dressed like that."

Duo shrugged his shoulders and tossed the stray hair over his shoulder. "Oh, come on, Wufei," he teased lightly. "You know I'm sexy."

"Shut up, Maxwell. What're you here for?"

"You know, you could be a little nicer. I'm here to purchase."

"For once."

"Not the first time, dear. I need you to whip up some more of that really good stuff."

Immediately, Wufei's face fell. "No, Maxwell. I don't do that kind of thing anymore. Only authentic herbalism."

"Please, Wuffie! I need this favor."

"I'm not supporting your habits anymore. I've got money now. I don't need your traces on me."

"It's not for me, it's for—"

"Him?" Wufei exclaimed, gesturing towards Kolya.

"Who?" Suddenly, Duo glanced back, his hair barely flicking the Russian's face. He leaned back, wrinkling his nose, even at the sweet smell that emanated for the cross dresser's locks. "Oh, no. Not him."

"Maxwell, I've told you at least a dozen times that I don't make deals like that with other people around."

"It doesn't matter, dude."

"I don't care how well you know him, Duo, I don't vouch for him. He's not trustworthy."

"He doesn't even speak English!"

"He doesn't?"

"Kolya," Duo exclaimed. The man came forward at his call, on simple reflex. "Introduce yourself?"

Stare.

"Uh… shit, hang on. Kolya?" Wufei crossed his arms as Duo turned to the Russian. "Uh… Meenya zahvoot Kolya… English."

"Anglheeski?"

"Dah."

"Um…My name is Kolya. I am a man."

"See?" Duo replied, throwing one arm over Kolya's shoulders. Immediately the other man stiffened. "No way he's a narc, dude." Wufei did not look even remotely pleased. He had a tight knot in his stomach, a nervous feeling. He could feel himself forcing back the vomit in his throat. Kolya felt his mind being pulled back to the camps. He couldn't control his thought any longer. Instead, he was spiraling out of control, back onto the wetness, the ground of a forest floor after a cold, icy rain.

"_Kolya! Get up, Kolya!"_

_His mind was groggy, his eyes barely split open. The world was foggy around him. There was a voice… a boy's voice calling his name somewhere, but he couldn't see him. "Kolya! Please, please get up! They're coming! Hurry!" _

_Something pulled tightly on his arm, and he heard the other boy's scream before he lost everything again, a sharp pain stinging the back of his neck._

Kolya shook his head abruptly, snapping back into the dark shop, where Duo and Wufei were still discussing whatever they'd been talking about before.

"Duo, I don't want to have to do this for you ever again, okay?" Wufei's voice was low and serious as he spoke, his dark eyes fixed against the painted light of Duo/Megan's. "It's bad enough that I gave you a sake discount to celebrate two months of sobriety."

"You're the one who sold it."

"Yes, because I was flying high on my own white dragon. I would've sold it to a twelve year old."

"Then, really, who's at fault here?"

"Kisama. It'll be ready Friday. You can bring it to her then."

"Cool. Thanks a lot, Wuf-bear."

"Watch yourself, Maxwell."

"Will do. Be back Friday. Let's go, Kolya."

The Russian felt Duo's fingers wrap around his elbow and pull him from the dark shop. It wasn't until they were back on the subway, halfway to the hospital that he remembered something.

Duo had mentioned getting Lela dinner. There was no food anywhere.


	13. Pretty When You Cry

_Rating: R_

_For: language, adult content, violence? Ish?_

_Pairings: 1x2, 3x4_

_Warnings: Yaoi, cross-dressing, substance abuse, psychological disorders_

_Disclaimer: Do I need to continue to have the same conversation with you people?_

_A/N: Thanks for your patience. This will be my last post of Redemption, including the last two chapters and epilogue. Freakin sweet; my first ever finished multi-parter (finished being a key word there.) Thanks to Sintari for betaing, and to whatever loyal followers I may have incurred for being so cool. _

Chapter 13- Pretty When You Cry 

Lela leaned her forehead against the glass of the window, watching her son and ignoring the fog of her breath against it. He was still hooked up to machines and tubes. Needles in his arms gave him food and kept him alive. For the first time in years, even with people bustling behind her, as she watched her baby's slow wasting away, she was filled with emptiness. She felt completely alone.

Duo came up beside her, letting one long finger slide down her pale skin. It felt cold and rubbery against him, dimpled like chicken skin with icy goose bumps. He leaned down his lips and pressed them against her smooth cheek. She didn't move towards him even as his mouth moved to her ear. "You need sleep," he whispered softly against her, the warmth of his voice making the hairs within her ear stand at attention.

"I do sleep," she answered, her own voice tempered and even. Purple bags sunk beneath her eyes and left her skin waxy and pale.

"Not enough," he replied, sliding their hands together and lacing her icy fingers in his warm ones. She still didn't move towards him, but accepted his touch, pressing her fingertips into his hand.

"As much as I need."

"What do you do here all day?"

Lela raised her hands and pressed the palm against the glass. "Watch him." She waited for a moment, letting herself pause. He wasn't sure but he though her voice got caught in her throat. It took a second for her to force her chest to move again, let herself breathe again. "See what's happening to him. It's hard."

Duo didn't have anything to say. They stood once more in silence, for a moment longer. Then, Duo heard his voice puncture it, saying, "One of my friends sent you dinner from Chinatown. You like lo mein?"

"I don't eat meat."

"Lo mein has veggies, dear. Come eat with me."

"What if something happens?"

"Nothing will."

"I'm not leaving."

"You don't have to leave the hospital. Just go down to the cafeteria with me."

"Duo…"

"I brought you food."

"Duo…"

"The change in scenery will do you good."

"Duo…"

"Please."

She looked to him, the soft pleading in his eyes. She tried to mask her own want to be free from this with a fierce wall before her eyes. It took almost no time to crumble it, and she nodded, turning her body away from the plate glass for the first time in hours, hours feeling like days. She followed him with a languid frame into the hospital cafeteria. He pulled out her chair and set the little cardboard box in front of her. She didn't look at him; rather, she poked through the vegetables in silence. She stabbed the fork into her carton again, twirling the plastic between her fingers before raising a noodle-laden lump to her lips. She wasn't looking at him, her green eyes tipped down with an intense stare at the intricate Chinese symbols emblazoned in red against the white carton. He anxiously watched the cup of tea he'd poured for her. So far, she hadn't even glanced at him, which was disappointing for a number of reasons; firstly, because it meant that his efforts to pull her out of her depression were almost entirely void, and also because that high of a quality opiate had cost him a pretty penny. Revisiting the "herbalist's" shop on Sanchu Avenue reminded him of why he'd dropped the habit. It was pretty hard to handle. Finally, she spoke, saying the last words he'd expected to hear.

"We can't afford this." Her voice was softer than usual, the harsh and analytical tone having left it for the time being. Duo stared at her with blank eyes, hoping to meet her face, but only finding a curtain of black hair.

"What?"

"Julian and I… we don't have any money. We can't pay for him to stay here. We can't afford to get him better."

Duo smiled easily, a reassuring gesture that Lela would not lift her head to observe. He speared a piece of chicken on his own plastic fork and dipped it into the little plastic container filled with a translucent pink sauce. "Don't worry about that," he answered, popping the morsel into his mouth.

She looked up for the first time, her eyes shrink-wrapped in lingering tears. "How can I not worry about that?"

"Because," Duo replied, his teeth still grinding away. "I'll take care of it."

"You don't have money either."

"Oh ye of little faith." She stare at him like there were lobsters crawling out of his ears. "I'm Duo Maxwell, babe. Duo Maxwell doesn't offer what he can't promise." She couldn't help but smile at him, his debonair wit and charm that made him so beautifully like Duo Maxwell.

"Where will you get the money?"

He leaned back, tilting his chair onto its back two legs with his feet straining to stay on the ground. He tucked his hands behind his head and stared into the fluorescent ceiling lights. "Let's just say that Yuy and I and the other pilots know some things that be _quite _damaging to certain aspiring politicians and maintain knowledge of several conspiracies, plots, and government contrivances that have the potential to cause a coup d'etat and establish total and utter anarchy." She stared back at him, a slight terror in her eyes. "It's not the kind of thing I want. I'm a fan of peace. However, I'm not above accepting hush money, and the new government isn't above giving it out."

"Don't they think that the boys who fought would want war the least?"

"They thought no one would want war after the first one. After the Marimeia Incident, no one's taking chances. Not to mention, they're so busy with maintaining the peace, they just throw the cash at us without really thinking about it. Eventually, someone will figure out that we're the ones who would have to fight in another war, and we're just trying to keep our lives together."

"There's one more thing I don't get."

"Hm?"

"You guys have a lot of money."

"Indeed we do, m'dear."

"So why do you live… where you live?"

"Hm?"

"Your apartment's pretty shitty. Why don't you live in a house or at least get a better place?"

Duo sighed, his chair coming back down onto the ground. He leaned onto the table with his elbows and stared, his eyes penetrating hers. "It didn't seem right."

"What?"

"It doesn't seem right to either of us that we live like kinds just because we lived. It doesn't make sense that we have rich lives while people two feet to the left of us don't even have lives. Why should we exploit the money that they give to us while they ignore people… people like you and Julian, y'know?"

All Lela could do was nod as she felt tears rising to her gentle eyes. She couldn't stop one from falling, dripping onto her warm skin. Duo smiled with eyes of sadness as he reached up to wipe them away. "Don't be sad, columba. I just wanted to make you happy."

"Columba?"

He nodded, his smile widening. "Yeah. It's Latin for dove." His eyes fell and grew soft. "Peace."

"It's pretty."

"Thanks." He looked away quickly. His heart was steadily growing heavier. He felt then like he was deceiving her, like he was keeping her from something, and then hurting her again. He knew, somewhere deep inside of him that this was wrong, and that there was a chance he would regret this the way he regretted so many of the choices he had made in the war, and the way he regretted so much of his life. He had led her on, made her believe that they were poor and it had caused her pain. But he couldn't stop it, this deception, this web of lies that he was so thickly tangled in. That is why when her body relaxed, and she reached for the Styrofoam cup of tea that he had poured for her, he made no move to stop her. And as she finished that, and asked for more, he gave it to her.

And why that whole evening, he did not once say no to her.


	14. Try Not To Breathe

_Rating: R_

_For: Language, Adult Content, Maybe violence?_

_Pairings: 1X2, 3X4_

_Warnings: Yaoi, cross-dressing, substance abuse, psychological disorders, and moderate government bashing, if you could call it that._

_Disclaimer: I don't own it. Stop asking. Stop the worthless lawsuits. _

_A/N: Last chapter, and then the epilogue. Thanks again for your patience, and to Sintari (who is awesome and is being shamelessly plugged as of now) for betaing. On with the show!_

Chapter Fourteen- Try Not To Breathe 

Lela's eyes slid open slowly but surely. Her head ached, a soft and somber ache as she raised up onto her elbows. A blanket slid off of her bare shoulders, and her chest was struck with the icy cold of the outside world. She sat up more fully then, drawing her knees forward. She was kneeling on her bed. When had she gotten to her bed? The light around her was not the harsh fluorescent of a hospital light. It was a gentle glowing sunlight, streaming between the purple curtains, lightly beaded, that hung on the window frame.

Duo's curtains.

That fucker.

She ran out of her bed, before accidentally sliding across the kitchen floor in her socks. Her headache caused her to fall over backwards and land hard on her rump. She swore, "God-fucking-dammit. Duo!"

"What?" he asked, looking over at her from the top of the kitchen table. "Why are you on the floor?"

"What the hell happened?"

"I… I don't know. That's why I asked."

"Not about the floor, you bastard. What happened last night? Why am I not at the hospital?"

"Well, you passed out. I brought you back here."

"When did I pass out?"

"Around… I think it was three this morning."

"Duo," she growled dangerously, struggling to her feet and trying to ignore the aching at both ends of her body. "You are going to tell me, in a good bit of detail, _exactly _what happened last night. You will tell me anything and everything that I want to know. Are we at an agreement?"

"Do I have a choice?"

"No. No you do not."

"That doesn't really seem fair."

"Depending on what happened last night, you may very well have lost your fairness privileges." Lela leaned against the wall then, keeping her balance and placing one hand against her head. "So, tell me."

"Well… we were at the hospital, then I took you over to Crazy Legs. You danced with some transies, had a lot to drink and passed out in a booth. Me and Amy, my dykey buddy, took you to a cab and you and I went home."

"Why on earth would I have done that?"

"Uh…" Duo shifted his weight between bare feet. He was getting nervous, that sick sinking feeling plaguing his stomach. He got that feeling that you get right before you throw up, like someone just stuck a stick of paste down your throat and smeared it around. There was a gacky feeling in him, right before he answered. "I might have nicked you."

He felt the death in her eyes, burning down his body as she hit him with a solid glare. "Nicked me?" Her voice was even with the high-pitched punctuating edge of absolute repressed rage. "What do you fucking mean 'nicked me?'"

"Well… I have this friend on Sanchu Avenue," Duo began. Lela's jaw dropped. Everyone who'd ever spent any time on the street knew _exactly _what Sanchu Avenue implied

"A drug strip? You went to a drug strip." She knew where this story was going before he even told it to her.

"Yeah, and I have this friend who gave me some of his best White Dragon at a discount. So, I put some in your tea and the evening basically evolved from there."

Lela's heart stopped beating, just for an instant. "Duo…" she whispered softly.

"I know; I know it was wrong, but I was really desperate. I was scared for you, Lela, I was scared for you. You just seemed so sad and small and alone. I just… I thought you should get out of the hospital."

"I didn't tell you why he's in, did I?"

"No…"

"He has a congenital heart defect. It almost killed him while he was at Trowa's. He's having surgery today."

Duo's heart dropped into his stomach, maybe even his intestines. "Oh…"

"Yeah. I need to go to the hospital. Now." She went back into her room and quickly dressed. Duo stared down at the speckled kitchen table. Lela emerged no less than two minutes later with a backpack slung over her shoulder, and ice radiating from her body. "Don't wait up for me. Definitely don't go looking for me."

As she left, Duo could hear her softly singing,

"God, it's been a lovely day

Everything's been going my way

I took out the trash today

Baby, I'm on fire."

Right before she slammed the door.

Lela walked in two hours after Julian's surgery had started. She hurried down the white halls, heading resolutely towards her ultimate goal, black backpack barely even weighing on her. When she got to Julian's window, she saw a woman standing there. Her hair was pulled back into a tight, high ponytail. Her body was a little disproportionate, with small breasts and a slightly protruding stomach trapped inside a navy blue suit, with official looking black flats and hose. Lela felt strikingly inferior in the clothes she'd thrown on, some of Duo's transvestite jeans and the only shirt she had, long-sleeved and black. The jeans had a hole in the knee and the shirt was too short for the way that they rode low on her hips. She stopped a foot away from her and stared forward.

"Hello," the woman said. Her voice was nasal, more then Heero's. Lela note that she had a crooked tooth, one of the front ones.

"Hello," Lela answered warily, extending one hand. The woman had a manicured hand, whereas Lela's was somewhat dry and her nails were painted in a vampiric burgundy. They shook and the other woman pulled away too quickly for Lela's taste. She stood up straight and glanced down at her clipboard.

"Are you Lela Donnelly?"

She winced slightly at her maiden name. The sting was rimmed with Victor. "Yes."

"My name is Melinda Starr; I'm from Child Harm and Abuse Preventive Services. I need to speak to you about your child, Julian."

"I see."

"Are you aware of the current situation surrounding your son?"

"In what sense?"

"Recently, you were reported for raising a young child in a hazardous situation. Government reforms have cracked down on what's harmful and what isn't. Your situation with Julian falls into those categories. Do you understand what I mean?"

"Yes."

Melinda Starr continued to speak regarding forms and paperwork. The trial date had been set, but she recommended that Lela not talk, as anything she said could be used against her. Julian would be in protective custody following surgery. Lela felt her fists clenching into small tight balls, with her red fingernails slowly punching half-moons of blood.

"I have a question," she said to Melinda Starr. She nodded forward, and everything that Duo had ever told her about his past, his war stories came flooding back and prodding her with a white-hot iron at the base of her skull. She thought about the girl with the flies on her eyes, with Solo and the gang's plague death. She thought of the crowded Maxwell's orphanage and the fire that knocked them all out of the water. "Where was your organization when the war orphans needed a place to go?"

"Where were you when your son went into surgery?" the woman replied. She began to walk off, her lacking heels clacking along as she left. "I'll see you in court. You might want to dress a bit… nicer."

Lela just stared after her, with nothing else to say.

She got back on the train and rode down the way, past her own stop. She wasn't sure where she was going until she was standing in front of Tia Sarmita's Empanadas stand. It was owned by a small Chinese woman, who chain-smoked Benson and Hedges 100s.

"Lela!" she exclaimed, waving her yellow nicotine-stained fingers in the air, a cigarette between two of them. "You come back! Haven't seen you so long! Where you been?"

"At the hospital."

"Oooh…" The Chinese woman's eyes grew wide. She put her cigarette hand against Lela's stomach. "Baby, you sick? You need medicine?"

"No, I'm okay."

"No, no! Poor baby. Here," and she began rummaging through the top drawer in her cart. "I find medicine, you feel better."

"Lin Tao! I'm not sick."

"You not sick?"

"No," she replied and couldn't help but smile. Lin Tao tended to be a hypochondriac and something of a big mother hen.

"Then why go hospital?"

"Julian."

"Oh! What's wrong with the baby?"

"Congenital heart defect."

"Oh, I'm sorry. Listen you want usual? I give you discount."

"Thank you, Lin." Lin nodded and shuffled around in the thermal heat-controlled cabinets. She pulled out a paper bag and Lela handed the little Chinese woman her money. Then, she crossed the street, and went down four buildings. She went up the fire escape, six floors, and slid to the third window. She climbed in to find Kolya lying dead on his apartment floor.

The Preventers appeared quickly, and efficiently like hotel maids, Lela had gone outside and given her statement to the somewhat portly field officer; she leaned back and tried to get a last glimpse of Kolya. The whole room was totally clean, spike tape marking evidence and a chalk outline replacing his body. The door was marked off with caution tape and most of the team had cleaned up whatever mess was left and gone. The agent drove her back to Duo and Heero's apartment. Duo was laying on the couch with a bottle of vodka resting on his lap.

"Hello, lovely," he said softly turning his eyes away from the book he'd propped up against the bottle. "How was your day?"

"My day?" Lela asked. "You want to know how my fucking day went?"

"Yeah," he whispered. He was half-drunk, but very careful about his words after he realized how on-edge she was. "I do." One of his hands moved up and slid along the back of her leg. "Tell me all about it, kiddo."

At that moment, something in Lela snapped and that bad day became every bad days she'd ever had before in her life. Her hands clenched into fists, and Duo realized two seconds too late that he shouldn't have even started this conversation. His hand slid away from her leg a bit too late for her taste. Lela's arm shot out and grabbed the vodka bottle from his lap. He reached for it, but soon realized that she probably needed it more.

"Well, it started out okay, what with one of the two people I trusted most telling me he fucking nicked me." She took a long heavy swig because she didn't want Duo to think that the tears coming to her eyes were from anything other than the spicy burn of vodka sliding down her throat. "Then I went to the hospital where Melinda Stick-up-her-ass told me that she was repoing my fucking baby." Lela drank once against, this one lasting longer, and accompanied by more tears. "And this!" she exclaimed pointing one finger, the rest of the hand wrapped around the bottle's neck. "This is my favorite part. Ready steady, tiger?"

"Do I want to know?"

"Oh yeah. About as much as I did," she answered, taking a quick drink. "Kolya's dead."

"What?"

"Yeah. Some fucking asshole sniped him in his apartment. But don't worry, the Preventers are on it!" she cried out, sarcasm dripping out of her voice like tree sap." Fuckin a…" She slumped onto the floor, and wedged the bottle into her mouth. Then, she knocked it back until it was vertical and just kept drinking until there was nothing left. She let the bottle drop, and it knocked her leg before rolling under the couch. She just sat there, tears rolling down her cheeks over and over, with her head bowed down. She was posed like a puppet with no master, a toy that had lost its owner and didn't have any other reason to be in existence. Duo slid off the couch onto his hands and knees. She shook him off and rolled slowly, landing on her ass and sliding back towards the door. It took entirely too much work for her to stand up, but she managed it. "God, I hate you," she yelled, before finally falling out the door down the hall. Duo slumped over and sighed, bangs falling across his eyes.

It was the saddest song he'd ever sung.


	15. Epilogue: The Point of No Return

Rating: R 

_For: Language, adult content, and sexualness_

_Pairings: 1x2, 3x4_

_Warnings: yaoi, angst, cross-dressing, psychological disorders, more angst, and just general uncoolness of government figures. Oh, and Substance abuse. Can't forget about that one._

_Disclaimer: you know what? I'm not even gonna go there. You know better by now. You just know better._

_A/N: The angsty ending. Thanks for tuning in. _

Epilogue- The Point of No Return

Lela crossed her arms over her chest and leaned against the chair in the courtroom, sighing heavily. Her eyes were dry from the tears she hadn't cried. She hadn't slept in days. She watched as a fly on the wall, under the heavy eyes of the law. She watched with dead eyes as the CHAPS defense attorney stared back at her. The social worker representing Julian glared at her hatefully, as another agent with the service took Julian away.

"Take Case 41627 to the Third Safe Home." The woman tried to speak in code, the tongues of the agents, so that Lela wouldn't understand.

Lela stared at her, a small icy fired growing behind her eyes. "That case is my son. He's not a number. His name is Julian."

"He's _not _your son. He's the ward of the state because you could not care for him."

"I was taking care of him."

"I've reviewed your case quite thoroughly, Miss Donnelly. If you call his hospitalization for two weeks taking care of him, according to CHAPS regulations you are sincerely mistaken."

"People get sick."

"He had a congenital heart defect. I'm surprised he didn't die in his first weeks. Before that even occurred, the boy was in trouble. You were living with two ex-pilots, homosexual, unmarried lovers, I might add. One of them was a cross-dressing alcoholic; the other suffered from post-traumatic stress disorder and was not seeking treatment. Don't even get me started on your history. In the bluntest sense of the word, you were fucked from the start."

The agent walked out and Lela sat there in her little wooden chair. Her attorney shook his head sadly and patted her shoulder before exiting. Duo came up beside her slowly, careful to avoid her eyes. One of his hands touched her shoulder, and looked at her hair with sadness filling the purple gems set against his pale skin. "You okay?"

"That bitch just took my baby like a repo man, like he belonged to her. She acted like he was hers, that I didn't create him. The only part of my life that meant anything was just whisked out of the door by those bastards. I'm pretty fucking far from okay."

He put his arm around her shoulders and squeezed her close against him. His fingers tangled in her hair and he stared up at the judge's bench that had so easily decided her fate. She was so much smaller right then, so tiny in comparison to her usual strong self that he almost didn't want to tell her. He didn't want to add to the tragic instances of the last several days and weeks. He didn't want to make things any worse than they had to be, didn't want to add anymore negativity to this series of not-so-good days. He did anyway.

"I'm going to rehab."

She turned to look at him, freeing herself from his hold. "You're… you're what?"

"I have a problem. So far, the only one that hasn't been just about killed by it is me. It's time to stop for real."

"Well… I…" She looked away then, not willing to face him, and hiding the tears the lingered on the brims of her eyes but refused to spill. "I guess I'm glad to hear it." She tried a smile, but it didn't work in her favor.

"You can keep staying at the apartment, if you want. I mean, Heero's still around, but he's not that noticeable."

She looked down, bowing her head to hide from him. "I just don't know what to do with myself anymore."

"Just be good until I get back, okay?"

"Okay," she whispered. He kissed her forehead and hugged her close, and he left that night. She watched the bus drive away, and merely refused to weep. As she was walking home, she decided that the best thing for her to do would be to eliminate his temptation, in order to allow him to remain sober upon his return. She spent most of her doing just that, laying on the couch or in her room and crying the alcohol-filled days away over the next week. She finally polished it off the following Saturday night when she was home all alone.

WEDNESDAY, DECEMBER 18.

A final arrest was mad on the kidnapping reported Sunday, December 15th. Julian Moss was kidnapped from his foster home at approximately 3:45 A.M. His foster mother discovered his disappearance at 6:03 A.M. that day, and called the authorities. After a rigorous investigation, Lela Cartwright was taken into custody at Hotel Paradiso at 7:52 P.M. She had Julian with her, unharmed an asleep, when she was arrested.

Lela Cartwright was the mother of seven-month-old Julian and had recently lost a custody hearing (see CHAPS v. Lela Cartwright, December 1st- December 7th) which caused her son to be placed into foster care. Upon her arrest, Ms. Cartwright had .03 blood/alcohol content, and a makeshift tourniquet on her shoulder. Officials say she cut it on a shard of broken glass from the window she had shattered. While no trial date has been set, officials say that she has confessed and will be sentenced within the week.

Duo folded the newspaper onto his lap. He almost wished her hadn't read that article. He almost wished he hadn't read that article. He'd been looking for an Alcoholics Anonymous meeting in the area. He hadn't looked too hard after reading Lela's snippet in the paper. He stared out the window and sighed.

Their days of make-believe were at an end.

The train stopped at West Egg and the doors slid open. Duo stepped out, bleary-eyed with combat boots on. He walked all the way home with that newspaper tucked under his arm.

When he got there, Heero wasn't waiting for him.


End file.
